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THE ENEMY 




















































































































































































































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Billy couldn’t keep his eyes off the girl at the window: John Doe’s Tavy! 







THE ENEMY 


By 

GEORGE RANDOLPH CHESTER 
& LILLIAN CHESTER ,/ 

Authors of “The Ball of Fire,” etc. 


Illustrated by 

A. B. Wenzel 



NEW YORK 

HEARST’S INTERNATIONAL LIBRARY CO. 



Copyright, 1915, by 

Hearst’s International Library Co., Inc. 


All riehts reserved, including the translation into foreign 
languages, including the Scandinavian. 



APR '£ 1915 ^ 

©CI.A397802 ; 


CHAPTER 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

I The Street of the Dead .... i 
II Tommy Tinkle 13 

III “ In the Silence of Black Night ” 25 

IV On the Way 34 

V The Disappearance of Bow-wow . 46 

VI A Family Affair 50 

VII It Is not Good to Forget .... 68 

VIII Billy and the Imps 77 

IX Conspiracy 88 

X Face to Face 97 

XI Walking About the Square . .112 

XII Geraldine Makes a Run of Eight 125 

XIII Spring! 135 

XIV The Enchanted Parlor . . . .152 

XV A Family Pow-wow 163 

XVI A Little Gaiety for Tavy . . .173 

XVII Tavy Is to Blame 183 

XVIII Geraldine, the Comforter . . .193 

XIX Tavy Takes a Music Lesson . . 203 

XX A Friendly Call 216 

XXI Tommy Tinkle Goes A-peddling . 231 
XXII The Vision 239 

XXIII Side by Side 247 

XXIV When One Has a Tavy . . . . 256 

XXV The Gayest Night of Tavy’s Life . 266 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXVI Geraldine Listens 280 

XXVII The Dawn of a New Day . . . 287 

XXVIII Happiness Is a Selfish Pleasure. . 296 

XXIX Ham and Eggs ! 306 

XXX Callers for John Doe . . . .314 

XXXI Honor upon Honor 324 

XXXII In the Silence of Black Night . 334 
XXXIII Harrison Stuart Conquers His 

Enemy 342 

XXXIV The Royal Princess Comes Home . 356 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Billy couldn’t keep his eyes off the girl at the win- 
dow: John Doe’s Tavy! . . . Frontispiece 

FACING 

PAGE 


“ Eleven-fifteen, Billy,” Geraldine warned him as 

he stepped out of the limousine 2 

Suddenly John Doe stood up. “Billy!” — in his 
voice was anguish. — “My wife! My little 
girl ! I want them ” 72 

Geraldine came to the door at this inopportune mo- 
ment 112 

The careless Tommy Tinkle, watching Geraldine 
with the practised eye of a color artist, noted a 
fleeting change in her tint 126 

“ No! ” The tense strong voice is that of John Doe. 

“I would rather see her dead!” . . . .150 


“ Guess I’m a little late,” mumbles Billy. There is 
a moan and a sob from Mrs. Stuart as she real- 
izes the truth. Billy is drunk! 182 

With a cry of rapture, they are clasped in each 
other’s arms 


214. 









THE ENEMY 























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THE ENEMY 


CHAPTER I 

THE STREET OF THE DEAD 

U NCANNY stillness; a long, low, dim 
tunnel, uneasy with the shuffling specters 
of the voiceless damned; a rush, a rum- 
ble, a deafening clatter, a rumble and a dying 
rush; uncanny stillness again; the Bowery! 
Black, oily mire everywhere; even the snow, fine 
and clean and white as it sifts through the gloomy 
canopy of the elevated, turns to slime as it falls 
on the reeking pavement. Time was when that 
historic thoroughfare had pride in its lusty vice 
and flaunted a sort of gaiety, but now, as it lies 
gleaming under the long, confused perspective of 
iron pillars, its viscid tar-like surface reflecting 
the lights of the dingy shops, it is a street of the 
living dead; and in all its shuffling phantoms — 
hunch-shouldered figures with pocketed hands and 
glazed eyes and misshapen lips — there is none 


2 


THE ENEMY 


more lost to life than the man who stands against 
a board fence, peering down into the excavation 
for the Pannard Building, the ruddy glow from 
that inferno-like pit touching with a fantastic 
mockery of healthful color the waxen hue of his 
face. 

He is of no age, this man, and of no race, and 
of no station, and of no name. His beard, which 
might have been gray with washing, has been al- 
lowed to grow as it would, and is meshed and 
matted; his eyes are bleared and puffed; his brow 
is broad and high and full, but hidden by an ab- 
surdly shapeless hat, and the snow, melting from 
its crown, has run down in muddy rivulets across 
his face and into his beard, veining his sodden 
countenance with angling streaks of brown. He 
seems numbly fascinated, without apparently 
knowing why, in the weird scene which spreads 
below him. 

The pit is huge and deep, its dimness shot by 
clustered lights, amidst which dark figures toil like 
imps in a far-off hell. There are voices from 
below there, hollow voices but vibrant with life, 
hoarse, sharp voices of command; and monster 
derricks, like giants enslaved, in obedience to the 
voices sweep their great arms from horizon to 
horizon, picking up and setting down with a pre- 



Eleven-fifteen, Billy” Geraldine warned him as he stepped out of the limousine 




































THE ENEMY 


3 


cision so marvelously human that understanding 
must be in their sinews; and as they lift and drop 
their tons, they groan ! 

Day after day, and night after night, the waxen 
face has, at intervals, peered numbly over that 
spot in the fence, for hours at a time, and there 
have been occasions when the brow has knotted, as 
if in an effort of concentration; but, for the most 
part, the man has gazed in the stupor of drink. 

Radiant life came into the street of the dead. 
A big limousine, its great yellow eyes gliding for- 
ward as a symbol of its right and its might and 
its imperial will, stopped at the curb just opposite 
the waxen-faced watcher. The dome light flashed 
up within, revealing, amid the exquisitely grained 
woodwork and the luxurious corded gray uphol- 
stering, a jolly looking elderly man, a placid look- 
ing elderly lady, a tall, pleasant looking young 
man in a beaver hat, and a young lady, bewilder- 
ingly swathed in soft white furs, her richly tinted 
smiling face framed in a wealth of rippling light 
brown hair tinged with gold. Her brown eyes 
sparkled for a moment as she turned them on the 
tall young man. 

“ Eleven-fifteen, Billy,” she warned him, as he 
stepped out of the limousine. “ Not a minute 
later.” 


4 


THE ENEMY 


“ I’ll be there right after the cocktails,” laughed 
Billy, hat in hand. 

“ How frank.” The smiling retort seemed to 
please her father very much, and he chuckled. 

“ If you want Billy to be late, Geraldine, just 
keep on holding his hand.” Three-B Benning was 
even more pleased with his own humor, for, as 
his shoulders shook, his face reddened and his 
puffy mustache rounded. 

“Father!” protested Mrs. Benning in a tone 
so placid that it held no possibility of emotion of 
any sort. 

Geraldine only laughed, though her face flushed 
slightly, as Billy hastily released her hand. 

“ I’ll have to do some fiddling before I can 
dance,” and the young man cast a quick glance 
toward the groaning giants of the pit. “ Eleven- 
fifteen.” He closed the door of the limousine, 
he gave each of the occupants a separate bow and 
a cheerful grin. 

The dome light was extinguished, the limou- 
sine rolled away, and with its going all the light 
and life and warmth seemed to have disappeared 
from the world ! The waxen- faced onlooker shiv- 
ered. 

A stockily built man came up out of Hades, 
by means of staged ladders, and appeared over 


THE ENEMY 


5 


the top of the fence. He wore a heavy cap pulled 
down over his ears, and his mustache was drip- 
ping. 

“Still sliding, Joe?” anxiously inquired Billy 
Lane. 

“Nearly a quarter of an inch!” gravely re- 
ported the man from the pit. 

The waxen-faced one did not hear. He was 
shivering so that his shoulders drew together and 
his teeth chattered, and a tremor seemed to run 
down his whole bowed body to his gaping shoes. 
Intelligence followed that awakening of his senses. 
The man knew exactly what to do. He turned 
and shuffled, trembling, down the street toward 
the Chicago Buffet, more popularly known as 
Mike Dowd’s Sink. He walked with his head 
bent and his eyes to the ground. Once he stooped 
and picked up a water-soaked cigar butt, which 
he slipped in his bulging right-hand pocket, and 
a little farther on he found an iron nut. Left- 
hand pocket. These things, and bones and rags 
and empty bottles and the like, could be sold when 
there were enough of them. 

The dingy Sink, with its frowsy habitues, was 
like a scene from Dante; but Mike Dowd was 
strictly material. He was a big, large-necked 
man, with a yellow mustache and a face as expres- 


6 THE ENEMY 

sionless as a stone post. He nodded gruffly as 
“ the regular ” drew up to the bar, but he made 
no other movement until a nickel was laid down 
with a quivering hand; then he deftly filled a 
small glass, brimful, from a worn looking bottle. 
The man drew a deep breath and reached for the 
drink, but time after time he withdrew his shaking 
hand, lest he should spill one drop of that life- 
giving liquid! 

The well-dressed young man in the beaver hat, 
and the stocky man from the pit, with the heavy 
cap still pulled down over his ears, came briskly 
in, so intent that they scarcely noticed the total 
depravity of Mike Dowd’s Sink, low and ill- 
smelling, and peopled with living carrion. 

“Have you any good whisky?” dubiously 
asked the younger man, as he inspected the rick- 
ety back-bar, with its narrow cracked mirror and 
its scant assortment of bottles. 

“ Leave it to you,” rumbled Mike Dowd, reach- 
ing under the stickily painted counter for a copper 
measure. “ I got some at two bits a throw.” 

“ Shoot it,” accepted the young man in Mike’s 
language, and with a smile which disclosed a set 
of even white teeth. He radiated so much good- 
fellowship that even the stone post gave him a 
half glance of approval, as he strode heavily to 


THE ENEMY 


7 

the row of black barrels across the rear end of 
the room. 

“ We’re up against it, Billy,” said the stockily 
built man, wiping his dripping mustache, and there 
was a look of deep concern on his face. “ That 
foundation is solid rock. It can’t slide, and yet 
it does.” 

Billy Lane unconsciously studied the geometri- 
cal relation of four dents in the bar. He was 
troubled. 

“ I might as well go out of business if the big 
Pannard Building should loaf down toward the 
river one night.” He moved forward as he felt 
an elbow touch his from behind. “ Better stop 
the work until I investigate, Joe.” 

“ Nothing else to do,” worried the superin- 
tendent. “ I wish Harrison Stuart were alive. 
He knew the geological formation underlying New 
York as if he had made it.” 

“ If Harrison Stuart could stop that sliding, I 
can,” declared Lane, laying a good fist on the edge 
of the bar. “ First of all, however,” and a laugh 
betrayed his perplexity, “ I have to find out what 
causes it. The surveys show that site to be as 
solid as the universe itself.” 

“ Survey’s wrong! ” husked a voice. 

Startled, both men turned to find the waxen- 


8 


THE ENEMY 


faced refuse peering up at them with strained 
brows. The man was soddenly drunk, but he was 
fairly trembling with his effort at concentration, 
and his bleared eyes were steady for the first time 
in weeks. He had drunk his whisky, and was 
holding the glass with a grip which would have 
crushed it had he been stronger. 

“ Beg pardon? ” said Billy, in surprise. 

“ Shale up-cropping,” went on the man, holding 
tightly to thought by his grip on the edge of the 
bar, and sliding slowly towards the young man 
in his earnestness. “ Substratum — runs down 
there — like a trough. You’re on the point.” 
His brows began to relax, his eyes to dull, his voice 
to weaken. “ Cut it off.” His voice died away 
in a mumbling whisper. He leaned heavily 
against the bar. His head drooped. 

If a genie had popped out of a bottle to solve 
their dilemma, they could have been no more 
amazed! That this distorted shell contained 
fragments of a cultivated intelligence was beyond 
comprehension! Looking at him, as he stood 
there relapsed into dullness, with his grimy hands 
and his matted beard and his dirt-streaked face, 
they could scarcely believe that it was he who had 
spoken ! 


THE ENEMY 


9 

“Well, what do you think of that! ” gasped 
the superintendent. 

“ It’s probably the answer,” decided Billy, his 
mind delving below the Pannard excavation, and 
constructing a diagram of the tilted substratum. 
He bent eagerly over the bleared stranger. “ Do 
you know the extent of this shale up-cropping? ” 
he asked. 

The frowsy one lifted his head, but the gleam 
of intelligence had gone from his eye. 

“ A little whisky,” he mumbled, with a form- 
less smile. 

Mike Dowd had returned with the copper meas- 
ure, and with great vigor was washing and bur- 
nishing two glasses. 

“ Give him a drink,” suggested the superin- 
tendent. 

“ This good whisky’ll kill him,” grinned Mike, 
his yellow mustache lifting. “ Hey, BowAV ow ! 
Have a drink? Of course you will!” and he 
poured it out and set it in Bow-Wow’s hand. 

The bent head raised quickly and the drooped 
shoulders straightened a trifle. 

“Thank — you,” and, in a trembling hand, 
the glass was held up and out, with an absurd at- 
tempt at formality. Mike laughed, but Billy 


IO 


THE ENEMY 


Lane turned on Bow-Wow that warm smile which 
had lined his path through life with friends. 

“ The same to you, sir,” he replied with grave 
courtesy, and drank with the man. A look of 
gratification brightened the young architect’s face 
as he tasted the liquor. “ That’s great stuff,” he 
complimented Mike Dowd. “ Can you stand an- 
other one, Joe? ” 

“ One at a time for me,” refused the super- 
intendent, with a speculative, sidelong glance at 
his companion. 

“ I’m not too proud to drink by myself,” 
laughed that young man gaily, and poured his 
diminutive glass two-thirds full. “ It’s a shame 
to let a good drink of whisky be lonesome.” 

“ Whisky! ” suddenly shouted Bow-Wow, with 
a sharp intake of his breath. 

Billy Lane and his superintendent turned at 
the vehemence of the tone. The man’s fists were 
clenched and his eyes were glistening. The hu- 
man carrion on the benches grinned stupidly. 

“ It’s the curse of the world ! ” went on the dere- 
lict, his voice rising shrilly. “ There is no hell 
but whisky ! Drink ! It’s the enemy of man and 
God! It burns the body and it sears the brain! 
It — ” 

“ Can that ! ” interrupted big Mike, and reach- 


THE ENEMY 


ii 


ing across he gave a sharp jerk at the man’s beard, 
by way of emphasis. 

The orator instantly subsided. He set down 
his empty glass and shuffled across to a bench, 
where he huddled, mumbling unintelligibly and 
plucking nervously at his beard. 

“ I told you that two-bit whisky’d kill him,” 
grinned big Mike. 

“ Who is he? ” asked Billy. 

“ A bum,” and the blond mustache came up. 
“ He hands us that spiel every time he gets one 
drink past the corner.” 

“ Where does he live? ” 

“ Here.” 

Billy inspected Mike Dowd’s Sink with a shud- 
der. It was a narrow room, its rough board walls 
and ceiling painted a ghastly blue. It was lighted 
with small yellow bulbs, half obscured by clouds 
of stinking smoke. Along each wall were decrepit 
benches, and on these sat, puffing at their pipes, 
soiled and rumpled creatures, who, after an apa- 
thetic glance at the newcomers, had descended 
again into motionless, hopeless, lifeless silence. 
There was sawdust on the floor, which, by the 
tracking in of the slush, had been mixed into a 
mottled pasty mire. 

“ Where does he sleep? ” 


12 


THE ENEMY 


“ In the alley. He crawls into an old coal box 
out there that’s shaped like a kennel. That’s why 
we call him Bow-Wow. He sweeps out in the 
morning, for a drink, and he’s the only bum I 
ever had that don’t steal.” 

The young man paid for his drinks, and but- 
toned his coat. 

“ I’m going to take him home and sober him 
up,” he announced to the superintendent. “ He 
knows all about the rock under the Pannard Build- 
ing,” and Billy walked across to Bow-Wow. 
Lord, what a debasing name ! “ Come on,” and 

he touched the fellow on the shoulder. 

“ Eh? ” The nodding head raised slowly. 

“ Come on!” 

Bow-Wow half rose. 

“ Where?” 

“ Home!” 

There was a rumble in Bow-Wow’s throat, a 
rumble which began in a laugh and ended in a 
cough. 

“ A little whisky,” he said. 


CHAPTER II 


TOMMY TINKLE 

BIG lounging-room, with rich hangings 



and soft leather chairs and couches; a 


^ “““ huge log blazing in the fireplace, and 
casting its ruddy glow in fitful flares upon the well 
chosen pictures, upon the odds and ends of art 
from every quarter of the globe, and upon the 
glistening evening attire of Tommy Tinkle, who, 
with a highball at his elbow and a cigarette be- 
tween his fingers, is sitting contentedly by Billy 
Lane’s fireplace, in Billy Lane’s favorite chair. 

The lock clicked, the door opened, and Tommy 
turned lazily to greet his friend, but, instead of 
Billy Lane, there shuffled into this harmony, Bow- 
Wow! He stood blinking stupidly at the fire. 

Billy followed briskly a second later. He 
closed the door, and leaned the swaying Bow- 
Wow against it; then he peeled off his gloves, 
threw them into a waste basket, and drew a long, 
deep breath. 

“ You’re quite a collector,” Tommy grinned 


14 


THE ENEMY 


with appreciation. “ Where did you get it, and 
what corner’s it for? ” 

“ Haven’t decided,” speculated the connoisseur, 
studying his prize with considerable wonder at 
himself. “ Where’s Burke? ” 

“ Chipping highball ice,” and long-legged 
Tommy obligingly rang. 

For a moment there was silence, broken only 
by the stupor-like breathing of Bow-Wow, while 
the two young men studied the new guest with 
awe. 

“Genuine antique or imitation?” finally in- 
quired Tommy, but the laziness in his tone was 
now only superficial, for the fingers with which he 
clutched pencil and paper from the table were both 
agile and deft. 

He was sketching Bow-Wow with great enjoy- 
ment when Burke came in, a pleasant-faced Irish- 
man with three scars: one from the Boer War, 
one from a fight in China and one a memento of 
his sole attempt at domestication. 

“ A guest of mine, Burke,” explained Billy, with 
solemn gravity; “ Mr. John Doe.” 

“ Yes, sir.” Burke was equally grave, but 
there was a twinkle at the corners of his Killarney 
eyes as he surveyed John Doe. “ The blue room, 
sir?” 


THE ENEMY 


i5 


Tommy Tinkle’s ever-ready grin widened, as 
he observed the perplexity which this counter 
thrust cast upon Burke’s master. What was to be 
done with the fellow, after all ! 

“ The fire escape, I think,” the host suggested 
in desperation. “ However, Burke, he’s up to 
you,” and it was Billy’s turn to grin, as he saw gen- 
uine worry flash into Burke’s brow. “ You will 
scrub my guest, feed him, and hold him here until 
my return.” 

“Yes, sir,” assented the Irishman gloomily. 
“ I suppose you prefer him sober.” 

Bow-Wow, having lurched dangerously along 
the door, once or twice, now aroused sufficiently 
to take part in the conversation. 

“ A little whisky ! ” he husked, and lurched 
again. 

Burke gave an entirely perfunctory glance 
around the room. There was no place here to 
seat Mr. John Doe; no place in the kitchen; no 
place in any room. 

“ Excuse me, please.” He hurried out, and 
came back wearing a pair of gloves. He took 
Billy’s new guest by the arm and led him into the 
servants’ bathroom, in which he had placed a coal 
pail. 

“ A little whisky! ” husked Bow-Wow. 


1 6 


THE ENEMY 


“ Take off your clothes and throw them in 
this pail, shoes and all; then climb into the tub, 
and you’ll get your whisky,” directed Burke, and 
turned on the water. Billy was in his dressing- 
room, throwing things, when Burke returned. 

Half an hour later, Billy and Tommy Tinkle 
were in the gaudiest of the private dining-rooms 
in one of New York’s most superb up-town pal- 
aces of food; and they had minutes to spare. 

“ You need a drink, my boy,” advised Tommy, 
as, properly slim in their swallow-tails, they en- 
tered the door and found themselves in company 
with no one but waiters, whom it was a distress to 
see idle. “ Bow-Wow has had an entirely too 
sobering influence on you. Are you in any condi- 
tion to join a gay and festive supper dance? No ! 
Then, get pickled, Billy; get pickled! ” and he mo- 
tioned the solemn headwaiter to him. 

“ I don’t have to be gay until the fun comes,” 
retorted Billy, attempting to reach Tommy’s 
height of glorious flippancy; but his somberness 
would not shake off. He was studying the fa- 
miliar ornateness of the big empty room, as if, 
all at once, its luxury were strange to him, and his 
gaze strayed from the big chandelier, with its 
thousand iridescences, to the elaborately paneled 


THE ENEMY 


i7 

Louis Quinze walls. “ Tremendous contrast be- 
tween this and the Bowery.” 

“Wow!” said Tommy. “It’s a lucky thing 
for you that I have ten minutes before the mob 
arrives.” He turned to the headwaiter. “ Six 
cocktails,” he ordered. He turned briskly back to 
his friend. “ You will get one drink every three 
and a third minutes,” he explained, watch in hand. 

“ Sensible idea,” laughed Billy, and they fol- 
lowed the headwaiter to the sideboard. 

Young Lane, both his engineering and his psy- 
chological problems forgotten, was light of mood 
and sparkling of eye when the Benning party came 
chattering into the room. 

There were twenty of them, mostly youthful 
and fresh-cheeked and care free; and the spirit 
of frivolity took possession of the place. It was 
as if a cyclone of merriment had suddenly burst 
into the prim stiffness of that gold and rose hall. 
There were laughing voices, flashing eyes, the 
gleam of pearly teeth, the curving of bewitching 
lips, the glitter of jewels, the rustle of filmy gowns, 
and all the gay bustle and confusion of such parties 
as jolly old B. B. Benning loved to give. 

An orchestra, half screened by palms, struck 
into a lively march, and Billy found the tall and 


i8 


THE ENEMY 


graceful Miriam Hasselton beside him as the 
throng made its way to the table. Clever girl, 
Miriam, full of general appeal, and serenely con- 
scious of it. A little light repartee between them, 
vague half-meanings which might or might not 
be turned into a laugh or a flirtation, but light as 
froth in its analysis. 

Geraldine Benning slipped between pompous 
Joseph Gandish and Jack Greeves, to get at Billy. 
Miriam Hasselton was considered to be an ac- 
quired taste, like olives; but some people became 
very fond of olives. Tommy arrived at Miriam’s 
side just as Geraldine reached them; so Geraldine 
swept both the boys away. They, at least, should 
not be Miriamized! She turned Tommy over to 
the dimpled little Parsons girl. Dolly Parsons 
could be trusted. 

Geraldine snuggled her hand in Billy’s arm. 
She was unusually pretty to-night, in her shimmer- 
ing gown of silver tissue touched with green, and 
with her new tiara of diamonds and emeralds in 
her golden brown hair. As young Lane drew her 
hand in place, he patted it. She turned swiftly 
up to him, and her eyes were glowing. He drew 
her arm closer within his own. They were very 
fond of each other, these two; they had always 


THE ENEMY 


i9 


been. He bent down and whispered something 
to her, and a little ripple of laughter followed, 
then Geraldine flushed prettily. 

“ Here are our places! ” she exclaimed, examin- 
ing the cards on the table. “ Here’s mine, and 
there’s yours, and next to you is pretty Leila 
Langster. You’re in luck! ” 

“ Indeed I am,” and he helped her into her 
chair with exaggerated gallantry. 

“ Why, there’s Billy Lane ! ” suddenly called 
Tommy Tinkle, taking his seat on the opposite 
side of the table, between the dimpled Parsons 
girl and the vivacious Mrs. Greeves. “ Ladies 
and gentlemen, Billy has a Bow-Wow! ” 

“ Billy’s always doing something interesting,” 
drawled Miriam Hasselton, bending past her thick 
partner to look at the young man, who was quite 
pink and jovial this evening. “ What kind of a 
bow-wow has Billy? ” 

“ A booze Bow-Wow ! ” returned Tommy 
solemnly. “ Here’s to him, old friend.” 

“ You didn’t tell me you had a new dog,” pro- 
tested Geraldine. 

“ Tommy Tinkle has given way to an over- 
strained sense of humor,” explained Billy, with a 
cheerful grin at the young man in question, who 


20 


THE ENEMY 


was making a rapid sketch on his napkin. “ I 
happened to find a poor devil down in the Bowery 
whose only name in Mike Dowd’s Sink, beg every- 
body’s pardon, is Bow-Wow.” His eyes, which 
had been shining, began to grow thoughtful. 

“Feed him his cocktail quick, Geraldine!” 
called Tommy as one in a panic. “ He’s growing 
morbid again. Friends and fellow citizens, be- 
hold Bow-Wow ! ” and he displayed his napkin, 
on which he had sketched a caricature of John 
Doe. 

Everybody laughed, with the exception of 
sharp-featured Mrs. Gandish, who objected on 
general principles to the introduction of such a 
thought into so select a company. Mrs. Gandish 
herself had not been long in this company. 

“ Begins to sound like a story,” suggested Host 
Benning, beaming across with great satisfaction, 
and lifting his glass. 

“ Not much of a one. The foundation for the 
Pannard Building is rather unstable, and this fel- 
low seemed to have some information about the 
substrata there; so I’m trying to sober him up 
to see if he knows anything. That’s all.” 

“ It isn’t half ! ” denied Tommy Tinkle. “ We 
have among us a simon-pure, dyed-in-the-wool 
philanthropist! Where do you suppose Bow- 


THE ENEMY 21 

Wow is being sobered. In William Lane’s apart- 
ments ! ” 

There was a general flutter of consternation at 
this, and Geraldine turned with concern. 

“ But, Billy! ” she protested. “ He might do 
something desperate ; kill you in the night or some- 
thing! ” 

“ Not with Burke there,” he reassured her. 
“ Besides,” and now he spoke generally, since 
they all seemed interested, “ I rather trust the fel- 
low. I think that, at one time, he may have been 
an engineer of some standing.” 

“ Nonsense ! ” It was the pompous Joseph 
Gandish who spoke. He was a big man, whose 
chest traveled far ahead of him and whose habitual 
expression of eye was one of ferocity. “ A man 
who is worth his salt never sinks that low ! ” 

“ Yes he does,” corrected B. B. Benning, whose 
acquaintance had been wide and varied. “ Hard 
liquor has sent many a man that low; and he never 
comes back! ” 

There was a quiet moment after that, for Ben- 
ning had spoken with unwonted seriousness for 
him. The awkward little pause was broken by 
Tommy Tinkle, who loathed awkward little 
pauses. 

“ Billy, let this be a solemn warning to you ! ” 


22 


THE ENEMY 


he declared with mock gravity. “ You like hard 
liquor. Beware! Billy, we behold you now in 
the flush of your young manhood, your constitu- 
tion as yet unimpaired by hard liquor. There 
passes but a few years, and it is thus that we shall 
behold you ! ” He had taken the fresh napkin 
which a waiter had laid before him, and now, with 
a few deft strokes, he started to draw a carica- 
ture of Billy Lane, as that eminent young engineer- 
ing architect would look when he became Old Bill. 

“Tommy!” cried Geraldine, and there was 
such distress in her voice that even the irrepres- 
sible Tommy stopped and read the dawning hor- 
ror in every face. He grinned to Geraldine, and, 
before the dimpled Parsons girl could snatch the 
napkin from under his hand, he had finished the 
sketch; but lo, it portrayed Old Bill as a splendidly 
preserved gentleman, with a rakish air, a wink in 
his jovial eye, and a cocktail in his hand! 

“ The peace of the evening having thus been 
restored by sacred truth, I move that we be 
merry,” suggested Tommy. “ This is no place 
for engineering, or philanthropy, or,” and here he 
winked prodigiously at Three-B Benning, u or 
temperance.” 

That broke the only touch of seriousness which 
the jolly Benning party endured that evening; and 


THE ENEMY 


23 


the host was happy in consequence, for he loved 
laughter better than wine. This was saying a 
great deal, for Benning was a connoisseur in wines, 
and there was plenty of it at his supper. 

Billy was fond of wine, too. He was fond of 
almost anything to drink, and he imbibed quite 
freely, especially during the exhilaration of the 
dancing which followed the supper. The wine 
seemed to agree with him. It made him more 
animated. Handsome fellow, Billy, with his 
broad shoulders and his well poised head, his good 
nose and chin and jaw. It became him to cast off 
his business cares, and indulge in a little hilarity. 
It was Tommy Tinkle’s turn, however, to drive 
home with the Bennings. 

Tommy kept them laughing all the way. Great 
chap, Tommy! Natural comedian. Three-B 
Benning, who had gained the soubriquet from 
his signature, laughed less than the others, for he 
was always respectful of Tommy’s wit. There 
was an underlying keenness in it, which gave Ben- 
ning a higher degree of enjoyment than laughter 
could express. 

Tommy remained in the vestibule with Gerald- 
ine, and chattered for a few moments after her 
placid mother and her jovial father had gone in. 
She was wonderfully pretty, with the soft light 


24 


THE ENEMY 


of the quaint old lamp shining down on her. 

They remained an unusually long time, and 
when Geraldine bade him good night, she smiled 
on him with extra sweetness. His familiar grin 
was the last thing she saw, as she closed the 
door; but, as the latch clicked, a little spasm of 
pain twitched Tommy’s humorous face. It was 
the first time he had ever proposed. 


CHAPTER III 

“ IN THE SILENCE OF BLACK NIGHT ” 

T HAT numb carcass which was Bow-Wow 
stirred uneasily. Something was wrong. 
A mattress; clean linen; silken pajamas; 
a bath. The body of Bow-Wow resented these 
things long before his soddened mind could com- 
prehend them. His body missed the knotted rags 
upon which it had lain each night; it missed the 
cramping touch of the kennel, head, foot and 
shoulder; it missed the gusts of wind, cold and 
wet or hot and stifling, which had swept upon him 
through the cracks of the box in the alley; so the 
body rebelled. It rolled, it twisted, it straight- 
ened and bent, until it became aware of a new 
uneasiness; and this was the heavy dose of “ fixer ” 
which Burke had inserted into Bow-Wow as a sub- 
stitute for whisky. 

There is no resisting the ultimate command 
of the body. When it is born, a mind and a soul 
spring into existence. When it has reached its 

25 


2 6 


THE ENEMY 


time to die, the mind and the soul have no say in 
the matter; so, in this life, the body is always 
supreme. It demands to be fed, to have its thirst 
quenched, to lie in slothful slumber; and, if it be 
refused these things, it ousts mind and soul. 

The body of Bow-Wow commanded his mind 
to awaken; and it did; awakened to its full 
strength, to its full intellectual capacity, to the 
full measure of its understanding; and all those 
mental powers were comprised in one muttered 
word, which broke huskily upon the silence of the 
black night : 

“Whisky!” 

Bow-Wow opened his eyes. Darkness, shot 
with glimmering light. He reached out his arms. 
Space ! Groaning he sat up painfully, and en- 
deavored to locate himself. Through a small 
window there came the faint illumination of the 
street, and the moist air of the snow. A door 
stood ajar, letting through a slit of dim radiance 
from the room beyond. Bow-Wow shivered. 
He was thinly clad. He had been used to sleep- 
ing in all his clothes! He was trembling, too, 
from head to foot, with a strange nausea. 

What was this thing which had happened to 
him? He was in a narrow, white room, and his 
bed had been improvised on the top of a bath- 


THE ENEMY 


27 


tub, two mattresses deep. How had he come 
here? In all his fuddled consciousness, he could 
find no trace of an answer to that mystery, and the 
effort at any thought further than his physical self, 
wearied, and weakened, and sickened him. He 
gave up the vague and feeble attempt at reasoning, 
and returned to the one idea which he could com- 
prehend — whisky ! 

He rose, and tottered out of the bathroom. 
He found himself in a softly carpeted hall. 
There was a light at the end, a flickering, waver- 
ing red glow. With many a stop for breath and 
strength, and steadying of nerves, he edged 
along the wall until he reached a large lounging- 
room, comfortable with leather chairs and couches, 
where a half spent log in the fireplace cast the ruddy 
reflections of its dying flames upon well-chosen pic- 
tures and queer objects of art from every quarter of 
the world. Dazed, bewildered, he stood swaying, 
and blinked stupidly at the fire. 

“ What are you after, Pop — whisky? ” 

The lips of Bow-Wow spread in a formless 
smile. 

“ A little whisky,” he husked, even before he 
turned to look at the clear-eyed Burke, in robe 
and slippers, and with his red hair touseled in a 
thousand curling points. 


28 


THE ENEMY 


“ Let’s have a look at your eyes, sport.” 
Without ceremony, Burke flashed on a light, drew 
Billy Lane’s guest to it and pulled apart the lids 
of his right eye. He nodded in business-like sat- 
isfaction, and left Bow-Wow standing by the fire- 
place while he went out into the pantry. He was 
back in a moment, and gave the man a glass with 
a carefully measured spoonful of whisky in it. 
Bow-Wow clutched at the glass with desperate 
eagerness! He lifted it to his lips with a trem- 
bling hand, and, after he had drunk it, he shivered 
from head to foot. 

“ Now drink this,” commanded Burke. 

“ This ” was a greenish compound, which the 
man swallowed obediently; then he docilely al- 
lowed Burke to lead him back to bed. 

Two hours passed. Again the body of Bow- 
Wow rose in imperious command over the seared 
mind and soul. 

“ Whisky! ” he gasped, awakening with a jerk. 
He was only a moment now in coming to conscious- 
ness of his surroundings. 

In the kennel he had spent the nights, from one 
o’clock until dawn, with only occasional cravings, 
which he could resist until Mike Dowd’s barten- 
der opened the Sink; but in this strange environ- 
ment and under the influence of the medicine which 


THE ENEMY 


29 


Burke had given him, his craving had become im- 
perative ! There was a burning in him, there was 
fever in his veins, and yet he shivered with the 
cold. 

“Whisky! whisky!” His quavering voice 
started with a whine and ended in a wail. 

He knew a barrel-house down near the bridge 
which kept open all night. He had fifteen cents 
in his pocket. Three drinks ! The sort of mem- 
ory which is little more than instinct told him 
these things. He began a nervous, groping search 
for his clothes. 

“What’s the matter, Pop?” 

The voice of Burke, clear, strong, hearty, and 
still with an underlying gruffness. Suddenly Bow- 
Wow detested that voice! 

The inherent prompting for freedom had come 
upon him. He was cramped here! He began 
to be aware of coercion; and there is no human 
soul so debased, so feeble, that in its depths it 
does not resent coercion ! 

“ My clothes ! ” he demanded. 

“ Burnt up, Pop,” was the cheerful reply. 
“ Have a drink? ” 

Cunning knotted the eyes of Bow-Wow. He 
nodded and grunted. He took the drink; but he 
refused the green potion. 


30 


THE ENEMY 


“ My clothes ! ” he demanded. He had for- 
gotten that they were burned. 

“ Nothing doing, old top,” Burke yawned. 
“ Billy says you’re to stay until he comes back; 
and you’ll stay if I have to show you to him with 
a lily in your hands.” 

The bleared eyes of Bow-Wow narrowed. 

“ Lemme out! ” he cried, in a high, wavering 
voice which rose nearly to a shriek. 

“ Come on, Pop, be a good little sport. You 
might as well think you’re in luck and be happy. 
God knows why you’re here, but here you stay! 
And if you holler too loud, I’ll have to bat you.” 

The man subsided. The threat was one he 
could understand. 

“ A little drink ! ” he begged. 

Burke studied him carefully, then he went out to 
the pantry. He found Bow-Wow behind him. 

“A big drink!” 

Burke calmly poured, measuring the quantity 
like a druggist. Suddenly the decanter was 
snatched from his hand, and its mouth flashed up 
to Bow-Wow’s lips! He had gulped down three 
or four ounces before the decanter was recovered. 

“ Now you’ve done it! ” worried the soldier of 
fortune, who had gained his experience in field 


THE ENEMY 


3i 


hospitals, and in mining camps, and in private 
service. “ Get back to bed! ” 

Bow-Wow grinned. A leer of triumph was in 
his eyes. Without a word, he turned and reeled 
back to his couch, while Burke locked up the liquor. 

Burke did not retire this time. He put a fresh 
log on the fire in the lounging-room. He went 
into his own apartment, brought out a battered 
little old surgical case, produced a hypodermic 
syringe, washed it and asepticized it, laid a little 
phial of tablets on the mantel beside it, set a glass 
of water with these, lit the charred briar which 
had been a soldier of fortune with him, and sat 
down to wait with calm philosophy. Three 
o’clock. It was time for Billy; past time, in these 
days when the young architect had so much im- 
portant work on hand. Instinctively Burke’s eyes 
roved to the glass of green liquid which Bow-Wow 
had refused. He’d probably have to make a 
fresh dose for his master. He sighed and shook 
his head, and worry came upon his brow. He 
liked Billy. 

The quarter chimed; the half; the three-quar- 
ters. Burke heard them all, and heard, too, every 
machine which stopped in the street; and as the 
time passed, the shadow on Burke’s brow deep- 


32 


THE ENEMY 


ened. How many nights he had sat thus by the 
fire, waiting; waiting until the dawn streaked the 
sky. Such nights had become more frequent of 
late. They had come so frequently that Burke 
awoke naturally at two o’clock, if Billy had not 
called him. The hour struck, and Burke did not 
hear it. He was asleep in the stiff est of the 
leather chairs, and his pipe was on the floor. 

A voice roused him, a thin, high-pitched, wav- 
ering voice. The dawn was stealing in at the 
window. 

“Jean!” called the voice. “Jean!” 

Bow-Wow; he stood, swaying, in the center 
of the room, gazing about him with widened eyes, 
and there was no need now for Burke to pull open 
the man’s lids. 

“Where’s Tavy’s doll?” went on the waver- 
ing voice. “Jean! Tavy’s sick!” The voice 
mumbled and muttered, and rose and fell, as the 
man stumbled about the room in a groping search 
for something, he knew not what. He was a 
grotesque figure, a monstrous figure, bent and 
weaving in his loose pajamas, with his straggling 
hair and beard. Burke had scrubbed these hirsute 
adornments, and now the man’s hair stood out 
in a silvery-white aureole, which, contrasting with 
his staring, reddened eyes, gave him an aspect 


THE ENEMY 


33 


of uncanny wildness. “Jean! ” The voice was 
sharper, higher pitched, more querulous. “ That 
bridge contract, Jean! I can’t find it!” Again 
an unintelligible muttering. There was a noise 
in the hall outside. The man, startled, listened 
intently. “What’s that! ” A sharper tone, but 
with fear in it. 

Burke quietly rose and went to the mantel. 
He opened the little phial and tried to shake one 
of the pellets into his palm. They had been 
there a long time, and they stuck. He shook and 
shook the phial. 

Suddenly there was a piercing scream, a com- 
mingling of terror, of rage, of frenzy, of all the 
wild emotions which a disordered fancy could con- 
jure up ! Before Burke could turn, the man was 
upon him from behind, and clutching his throat 
with long, lean fingers, in which there was mani- 
acal strength ! 


CHAPTER IV 


ON THE WAY 

W HAT a hilarious place is the world! 

How jovial is life ! Who gives a rap 
for dull care? Work was made for 
slaves. Life is short and you’re a long time dead. 
Fill ’em up again, boys, and let’s laugh at some- 
thing. No, let’s sing a song. Who’ll oblige? 
Tommy Tinkle ! No evidence of alcoholic excess 
about good old Tommy Tinkle. There he stands, 
clear-eyed, chin up, and with that whimsical grin 
on his wide face. He even seems extra humor- 
ous since his return from the Bennings’. It is 
scarcely an hour since that twitch of pain which 
followed the click of the latch. Will Tommy 
Tinkle lead in song? To be sure! Listen. 

“ The Demon Rum is a grand old friend, 

He cripples your frame from end to end; 

He starves your wife, he makes you a bum, 

So here’s a toast to the Demon Rum. 

Turn — Turn ! ” 


34 


THE ENEMY 


35 


Ha, Ha ! Great little song that ! Eh, fellows ? 
That’s Tommy Tinkle for you! Always some- 
thing fresh and original. Have a drink, Tommy! 
Now let’s all sing it! 

Everybody sings it, with particular emphasis on 
the tum-tum; a double slap of the hands on the 
club bar. Billy Lane’s voice is among the rest, 
a strong sympathetic baritone, but just now a little 
uncertain as to key. Billy’s silk hat is on the back 
of his head, and his hair is rumpled. The other 
fellows have their hats in the check-room, but 
Billy’s going home in a minute or so for the past 
hour. He has an important business engagement 
in the morning. In the meantime, he’s having the 
session of his life ! 

Have a drink, Tommy! Have a drink, Sam! 
What’s yours, Bert? Come on, fellows, let’s sing. 
Where’s Jack Greeves? We want a good bass. 
Oh, here you are, Jack, right at my elbow. Been 
standing here an hour, eh? What do you think 
of that! Drink up and have another, Jack. 
Now, Tommy, The Demon Rum! What a jolly 
world it is, to be sure! Everybody’s a fine fel- 
low! 

Tommy Tinkle vetoes the idea of more song. 
Why be monotonous, when life is so full of the dif- 
ferent? Tommy gives a lecture on the Demon 


THE ENEMY 


36 

Rum, with all his friends and himself as the hor- 
rible example. Screamingly funny thing ! Tommy, 
with a keen and clever wit, hits off the foibles and 
peculiarities of each one in the crowd; and the 
place resounds with laughter. Wonderful chap, 
Tommy! Especially snappy to-night. Have a 
drink, old man! Encore! Encore! You 
skipped Sam Langster, Tommy! 

No. Tommy will not conclude or continue his 
lecture on the Demon Rum. He will draw a pic- 
ture of the Demon Rum, that they may see with 
their own eyes this devouring monster, and be 
properly warned! 

Where’s a sheet of paper? Where’s crayon? 
Tommy Tinkle’s going to draw ! Here they are, 
produced like magic out of nowhere; a big sheet 
of coarse yellow paper and a box of colored cray- 
ons. The sheet of paper is tacked on the wall. 

That’s a magnificent piece of art, an astounding 
work; a fangless, snarling, blear-eyed genie of de- 
pravity, peering out of a somber blue pit, and sur- 
rounded by weird green and yellow vapors, dark 
red eyes, dark red tongue and mouth, and a face 
criss-crossed by countless little purple and blue and 
red blood veins. It is a terrible thing; a ghastly 
thing ! 

But Tommy Tinkle is not yet through, and the 


THE ENEMY 


37 


wide grin beneath his pointed nose is a creature 
of. active life in itself. An idea from the supper 
party has been left over in Tommy’s wayward 
brain; and he adds a few deft strokes. 

Why, it’s Billy Lane! Great stuff, Tommy! 
The laughter is long and loud. There is no stop- 
ping it. The fellows fairly double up with joy, 
and have to sit down and rest, and have their 
drinks brought to them. Among the loudest of 
the laughers is Billy Lane. No one has a keener 
appreciation of genius than he, and there is no 
one more capable of taking a joke on himself. By 
George, that’s a masterpiece ! Billy claims it. 
He’s going to take it home and frame it ! * 

Where’s Jack Greeves? Why, here he is in 
the corner, asleep. Where’s Sam Langster? 
What, is Sam gone? Yes, they took him out to 
his chauffeur. Where’s Bert? Where’s Hal? 
Where’s Charley? Where’s the bunch? Scat- 
tered; dropped out one at a time. Here, this 
won’t do! There’s still light and laughter and 
gaiety in the world ! Wake up, Jack, we’re going 
to sing! Dead; dead to the world; dead, all but 
his snore. It occurs to Tommy Tinkle to utilize 
a ticker waste-basket and some of the coarse yel- 
low paper, and to erect a tombstone at Jack’s feet; 
which is accordingly done; but there is no one, 


THE ENEMY 


38 

aside from the club attendants, to laugh at it, 
except Billy and Tommy. They are all alone in 
the world, and the world looks dim. See; out 
of the windows the dawn is breaking. It’s too 
late to go to bed. 

Tommy Tinkle has another flash of genius. 
Billy’s car is waiting. They know a roadhouse 
where the proprietor makes his own sausage. 
Suppose they ride out there for breakfast, wake 
up old Christian and have some sausage and eggs. 
Bar boy, put us up a bottle of the club special. 

Billy has a thought. Suppose they run up to 
Tommy’s rooms and change their clothes. Sup- 
pose they have a cold shower. Why, they’ll be 
fresh for the day. Billy will be in a fine shape for 
that business appointment. Done. Done in no 
time at all. As they dash down for the bottle 
of club special, on their way out, Billy discovers 
the Demon Rum, its red eyes gleaming on him 
with a peculiarly challenging leer. Come along, 
Demon Rum. Have a little morning ride. The 
Demon Rum, still with that knowing leer in his 
red eyes, permits himself to be taken from the 
wall, rolled up and tucked under Billy’s arm. 
Ha, Ha ! Billy Lane is a young man worth 
while; a young man with a sound body, a clear 
brain, brilliant prospects, and with already a rec- 


THE ENEMY 


39 


ord of achievements of which any young man 
might well be proud ! Just the sort for the Demon 
Rum; and in his roll of yellow paper, he leers 
his red leer and snarls his red snarl ! 

Out in the crisp, cool morning. The snow has 
stopped, and the sky is clearing, the clouds in the 
east are tinged a delicate rose. Glorious to be out 
in the dawning day; glorious to drive swiftly 
through the invigorating air; glorious to have the 
still sleeping world to one’s self amid the lifting 
mists of the morning; glorious to have youth, 
friends, laughter! 

The Demon Rum rests alongside Billy in the 
car. Geraldine! By George, Tommy, Gerald- 
ine would love the fresh morning ride. Let’s go 
back and get her. The idea does not appeal to 
Tommy. — Not because it’s unconventional, for 
Three-B Benning and Geraldine’s placid mother 
have more than once sanctioned expeditions as in- 
formal as this; but Tommy feels that the fact that 
they stayed up, rather than got up, makes a slight 
difference. 

It’s Billy’s car. They go back after Geraldine. 
That charming young lady, roused by a still sleepy 
maid, appears presently in as pink perfection as 
if she had taken hours to make her toilette. She 
is in an astounding pretty pink morning frock, 


40 


THE ENEMY 


and her eyes are sparkling and her cheeks fresh 
and her laugh gay as she trips down the stairs. 
Always in for a lark, is Geraldine, especially with 
Tommy and Billy. 

She stops abruptly as she sees them in the light ! 
Tommy is grinning cheerfully, but his eyes show 
the effect of the wind. Billy is grinning, too, but 
it is a set grin, with no meaning, but just general 
good nature. Hilarious world we’re living in; 
great place for a joke, eh Tommy? Poor Billy! 

Will Geraldine join them in a fresh little morn- 
ing run out to old Christian’s, for sausage and 
eggs? She will not! Most emphatically, she 
will not! She takes it upon herself to scold both 
boys sharply for their utterly senseless indiscre- 
tion; for spending the night with companions far 
beneath them; for permitting themselves to fall 
into this disgraceful condition, and, first and fore- 
most, last and finally, for presuming to come here ! 

A monk-like figure spats down the stairs, in 
broad sandals and high-girthed robe and crumpled 
cowl; Three-B Benning. He has felt it his duty 
to investigate. There is a twinkle of understand- 
ing in his eyes as he surveys the boys, and a sly 
purpose springs instantly into his mind. 

Why don’t they stay here to breakfast? Ham 
hash, with poached eggs; a triumph of matutinal 


THE ENEMY 


4i 


culinary art. Good old Benning! Of course 
they’ll stay! Skillful idea, that! B. B. will en- 
tertain the boys himself, and can set them back 
upon their normal way! But Geraldine vigor- 
ously vetoes the suggestion ; and the Demon Rum, 
rolled snugly in Billy’s pocket, and poking up be- 
tween his arm and his overcoat lapel, leers his red 
leer and snarls his red snarl ! What a worth-while 
young man Billy is ; a game with which any hunter 
might well be pleased. 

The aggravating part of it is that the boys are 
still happy, the world is still a hilarious place, life 
is still jovial, and a scolding, especially from a 
fluffy pink person like Geraldine, is only funny. 
Fatal viewpoint! Geraldine, with a little sweep 
of temper, which would have been merely piquant 
to Billy had he not carried that roll of paper 
under his arm, energetically explains that the Ben- 
ning house is not a sanitarium, that the boys shall 
go right ahead and sink to just as low a stage of 
brutal degradation as it is possible for them to 
attain! Go finish the spree! Good-by! 

Finish the spree, eh? Fine idea! There has 
come a stubborn set on Billy’s lips and a hard 
glint in Billy’s eye. Poor Billy! But where is 
the roll of yellow paper? Gone! Was that it 
flashing down through the grating of the areaway, 


42 


THE ENEMY 


or did it pop straight up in the air and fly back to 
the Devil? There is not much difference, because 
the Demon Rum is not on the roll of yellow paper. 
It has jumped straight into Billy Lane, where it 
ensconces itself gleefully, and howls for drink! 
Come on, Tommy, thanks Three B. No, can’t 
stop in. Got a date with the Demon Rum. 
Come on, Tommy. I say, come on! 

Glorious to be out in the early morning, eh, 
Tommy, glorious to drive swiftly through the in- 
vigorating air, glorious to have the drowsily wak- 
ening world to one’s self amid the lifting mists of 
the dawning day; glorious to have youth, friends, 
laughter! Work was made for slaves! Was 
there an appointment of some sort? Forget it. 
Finish the spree, eh ! 

Old Christian is cross when he pokes his night- 
capped head from the second-story window. 
Early roisterers who drag him out of bed for 
fifty cents’ worth of drink are the bane of Chris- 
tian’s life ! But these are two gentlemen. Oh ! 
It is Mr. Tommy and Mr. Billy; and they rep- 
resent that solvent of all sorrows, money! The 
gentlemen want sausage and eggs. Old Christian 
removes his funny scarlet nightcap, and comes 
right down. Billy and Tommy go into the bil- 
liard room while they wait, and old Christian 


THE ENEMY 


43 


brings them an appetizer, some of his best im- 
ported schnaps. Finish the spree, eh! The De- 
mon Rum chortles. 

They play billiards, and every awkward shot 
is a cause of merriment. There is still laughter in 
the world, except for one fixed idea. Billy’s no- 
tions are in a haze; as, for instance, he is just 
about to try, for the fourth time, to hit his cue 
ball, when suddenly he finds himself seated at the 
breakfast table, with a compote of delicious look- 
ing fruit before him. Outside the sun rides in 
the misty sky, a huge red ball; the bare trees in- 
terlace their branches against the background of 
the glistening river. Rather raw the air is. 
Watch out! They skid dangerously near the 
ditch that time. The chauffeur has had a drink 
or two, to warm him. Oh yes, they are in the 
machine again. Did Billy taste his fruit? He 
doesn’t remember, and he has no memory at all 
of the sausage and eggs, though he detects the 
taste of coffee in his mouth. 

Why, here’s a village! There’s a saloon with 
a door wide open, and an Italian in a faded blue 
blouse is scrubbing the floor. The Demon Rum 
howls for a drink! 

Blankness; total blankness; there is a confused 
jumble of motion, of changing from place to place, 


44 


THE ENEMY 


of taking a drink. Occasionally there is the voice 
of Tommy, steady, solid, unwavering. Tommy 
is singing the ditty to the Demon Rum. He is 
giving a lecture on astronomy. There is a fight 
somewhere. Was Billy in the fight, or only a 
witness? He is not sure. It was such a long, 
long time ago ! 

Scenes shift strangely, too; now country, now 
village, now city; now on foot, now in the machine, 
now on Fifth Avenue, now in the club ; but always 
with that one fixed idea. Finish the spree, eh! 
Now Billy is alone, except for the Demon Rum. 
Billy has had to sneak away from Tommy, be- 
cause some instinct tells him that Tommy lacks 
the pertinacity to take this little excursion. Billy 
will go back to the club and find Tommy when he 
is through his errand. 

Hello, Billy is here! Where is here? His 
eyes are puffed nearly shut, and they hurt when he 
opens them to look around. His eyes are tired. 
Billy himself is tired! His own voice sounds 
strange and far-off to him, and shrill, as he asks 
his sleepy chauffeur a question. Oh, yes, they’re 
out in the suburbs, and the lamps gleam again in 
the dusk, and this is a familiar house. Benning’s. 
Why did Billy come here? Oh yes, he has to 


THE ENEMY 


45 

show himself to Geraldine, now that he has fin- 
ished his spree ! 

He does. He exhibits his finished spree to her 
just one brief instant before the door slams; and 
out of the puffed and inflamed countenance of poor 
Billy the Demon Rum leers his red leer and snarls 
his red snarl ! 


CHAPTER V 


THE DISAPPEARANCE OF BOW-WOW 

T HIN bands as of steel were about the 
throat of Martin Burke, and, strong man 
though he was, he could not turn, nor 
break the grip of those maniacal fingers! With 
the cunning of frenzy, the white-haired madman 
had drawn back Burke’s head so that he could 
only wave his arms helplessly, while above him 
bent that distorted face with the glaring red eyes ! 
Burke’s own eyes were distended, his breath was 
stopped, and his face was purpling, when the door 
was thrown open and Nora Maloney, as big and 
as broad and as strong as the grandfather who had 
led the Fenians, came dashing in, with a huge hand 
ready for the fray. In one more minute, Bow- 
Wow, his fever of strength all spent, was lying 
flat on the floor, and the Widow Maloney, her 
thick ankles sticking straight before her, was sit- 
ting on him, the ruddy glow of the fire and the 
ruddy light of the dawn blending with the ruddy 
flush of her face. 


46 


THE ENEMY 


47 


“ Your life belongs to me, Martin Burke,” she 
puffed, twisting her fallen hair into a scraggly 
knot “ I think I saved it for you.” 

“ You did that,” assented Martin grudgingly, 
for he had his suspicions of the Widow Maloney’s 
intentions regarding him. “ I take it as a gift, 
but I can never repay you ; so it would be no use to 
try.” He was feeling of his throat. 

“ Well, there’s always ways,” considered jani- 
tress Nora, and cast up at the stalwart fellow a 
glance and a smile of great friendliness. 

“ Where’s my needle? ” growled Burke, wisely 
changing the subject and searching the floor. 

He found the hypodermic beneath the couch, 
and then, as methodically as if nothing had hap- 
pened, he prepared his solution, and filled his 
needle, and gave Bow-Wow the injection. 

“ A case of the jerries,” guessed Mrs. Ma- 
loney, as Martin gallantly helped her to her feet. 
“ It’s many’s the time I handled Andy Maloney 
when he had the jerries. The best way I found 
was to clout him behind the ear with a stick of 
stove wood.” 

“ It’s a favorite domestic method,” drily com- 
mented Burke. “ I don’t think this is a regular 
case of the tremens just yet,” he went on, studying 
the now quiet Bow-Wow. The man had not sue- 


48 THE ENEMY 

cumbed to the drug, but he was weak from over- 
exertion. “ He’ll have the sure-enough jim-jams 
in about two days ; but if I have him sober enough, 
in between, to answer questions for the boss, I’ll 
be very well satisfied.” He picked up Bow-Wow 
and carried him to the bed, as if the man were a 
child. 

“Shall I sit with you?” offered Nora, out of 
the goodness of her heart. 

“ You shall not,” refused Burke promptly. It 
was in his nature to blarney Mrs. Maloney, but it 
was in his wisdom not to. So, all by himself, 
he remained at Bow-Wow’s bedside until the 
stupor of the drug had set in; then he lay down 
on the couch in the lounging-room for a nap. The 
man was safe for a few hours. No Billy as yet. 

No Billy when Burke awoke, with the bright 
sun streaming in at the windows of the lounging- 
room, and with Nora Maloney shaking him by the 
shoulders. 

“The saints be thanked!” said Nora, as he 
opened his eyes. “ I thought for a while that 
you’d shot the drug into the wrong man, for I’ve 
been ringing your bell and pounding on your door 
this past hour.” 

“ That’s kind of you, Mrs. Maloney,” returned 


THE ENEMY 


49 

Burke. Rubbing his eyes, and springing up, he 
went to the door of Billy’s room. Empty ! 

With a frown of worry, he visited Bow-Wow. 
The tramp was lying wide awake, but there was 
no delirium in his eyes. He was too weak, how- 
ever, to rise. 

“ The top of the morning to you, Pop,” greeted 
Burke cheerfully. “ How’s your appetite? ” 

“ Water! ” moaned Bow-Wow. 

“ Never mind, Old Sport, we’ll have you out 
and well chirked up in less than no time. If I’ve 
time to-day I’ll give you a hair cut, and we’ll trim 
your chinchillas.” 

He bustled out to the pantry, and into the man’s 
glass of water he poured something from his stock 
of rough medicines. He hesitated before he pre- 
pared this dose. It would strengthen and clear 
the patient for a day, but the relapse would be seri- 
ous. “ Anyway,” decided Burke, as a sop to his 
own conscience, “ the man couldn’t escape the jer- 
ries sooner or later, and he’s in good hands.” 

“ Shall I stay and help you? ” offered Mrs. Ma- 
loney, looking the cherry comforter which she was 
willing to be. 

“ You shall not,” refused Burke emphatically, 
and, taking no offense, Nora left him alone. 


5 o THE ENEMY 

There is always time until eternity comes to an 
end. 

That was a busy day for Burke, but he was glad 
that it was. It kept him from worry. There 
were a dozen telephone calls for Billy; and Joe 
Mullen, the superintendent of the Pannard Build- 
ing, quit the day angry. He had called off his 
men. There was nothing he could do until he 
knew what to do; and where, in the name of all 
the hottest places Joe could mention, was Billy! 
Why didn’t he tend to business! He wasn’t at 
his office, he wasn’t at his club, he wasn’t at his 
home ! Burke nearly fought Joe Mullen. If he 
could have reached through the telephone he 
would have done so. It would have been a great 
relief to him. 

Bow-Wow, in a worried day like this, was a 
godsend. Artificially strengthened and sobered 
by Burke’s guileful aid, he submitted to all the 
strenuous things which were done to him, even to 
a hair-cutting and a beard-trimming and a mani- 
curing. At five o’clock, Burke, planning Billy’s 
possible dinner, came in and looked at Bow-Wow 
critically; then a sudden humorous idea seized him, 
and he went to his own wardrobe, where hung 
some of Billy’s and Tommy Tinkle’s discarded 
clothing. 


THE ENEMY 


5i 

“ Back yourself into these, Pop,” he directed, 
and went away laughing. 

Half an hour later, he returned with a carefully 
measured drink. It was time Bow-Wow had a lit- 
tle whisky, if he was to be kept in strength and 
sanity for Billy. 

“ Here’s your liquor, Pop,” he sang cheerily, 
as he came through the hall. 

At the door he stopped, stricken dumb, and he 
almost dropped the glass ! Before him was a tall, 
spare, straight, elderly gentleman, with waving 
white hair and a neatly cropped silver Vandyke. 
He was in evening clothes, and his white bow tie 
was quite properly made. He stood by the win- 
dow, looking calmly out at the street lamps as they 
sprang, in the dusk, into huge tinted pearls. He 
was smoking one of Billy’s cigarettes. 

“ I thought you might like a little drink, Mr. 
Doe,” stammered the man who had wrought this 
miracle in Bow-Wow. 

“ Thank you, Burke.” The voice was low, and 
still a trifle husky, but it had in it a modulation 
which Bow-Wow had lost. He took the glass, 
with a hand the temporary firmness of which gave 
Burke’s conscience another jab, and he looked into 
the depths of the oily liquid thoughtfully for a mo- 
ment. “ I suppose I need this,” he considered 


52 


THE ENEMY 


slowly, as if he were debating whether to cast it 
aside. He drank it, but with a shudder. The 
drugs with which Burke had plied him, and with 
which he was stimulated and upheld, had made 
liquor more or less nauseating. He reached for a 
carafe of water, and, with an effort, poured himself 
a drink, while Burke watched him in fascination. 

No, Burke had not wrought this miracle. He 
had only supplied the setting, that discarded dress 
suit. At first he had wondered whether his sud- 
den deference was a tribute to the man or the 
dress suit. Now he saw it was the man. He had 
expected to find Bow-Wow sheepishly surveying 
himself in these, to him, ludicrous garments. In- 
stead, he found John Doe wearing them with 
grateful enjoyment, and as no man could wear 
them without years of habit. 

“ Anything else, sir? ” 

“ Nothing just now, thank you.” A calm, even 
tone, one used to simple command. 

Burke went in and aired the blue room! 

Left to himself, John Doe relaxed a trifle of 
the straightness of his shoulders and the erectness 
of his carriage. It had been an effort to fill his 
formal garments so smoothly before Burke, but 
the exertion had been good for him. It had 
helped to bring him nearer to that person whom he 


THE ENEMY 


53 


had been before he had become Bow-Wow of the 
Bowery. He walked over to the mirror, and 
gazed with earnest inquiry into that worn and 
abused countenance, as if striving to trace in it 
something which he vaguely remembered from 
long ago. 

It was of no use, and, restless and distressed, 
he wandered about the rooms. The chemical 
counteractant which Burke had put against his 
years of alcoholic stupor had only restored to him, 
from that old life, the things which had been of 
automatic habit. It had not cleared his numbed 
mind of its paralysis. 

In the library he found something at last which 
chained his attention; a drawing-table near the 
window. On the board was tacked a half finished 
working plan, composed of many strange angling 
lines. They seemed to have no particular form 
or completion, and to the eye of one unskilled in 
iron-work they would have little meaning; yet 
John Doe seemed held by them. He returned 
to the board again and again, and each time his 
brows knotted. Two or three minutes of this was 
all he could stand at one attempt. The effort 
was as weakening as it would have been for him 
to carry coal. Those lines, in their logical rela- 
tion to each other, meant something; and deep 


54 


THE ENEMY 


within John Doe there stirred an impulse, an 
awakening, a desire which he could not fathom. 

He laid hold of the T square, and moved it up 
and down ; he held its head firmly against the edge 
of the board, so that the blade, as it moved, was 
kept perfectly at right angles to the drawing. 
Only an experienced draughtsman acquires that 
knack. He picked up a pencil with a long, hard, 
sharp point, and drew a faint line along the bot- 
tom of the paper. He had seemed, to himself, 
to be doing this out of curiosity; but the line was 
even with the edge of the T square blade along its 
full length. An inexperienced draughtsman tilts 
his pencil backward as he draws such a line, so that 
it varies from a true right angle in a long im- 
perceptible parabola. 

John Doe sat down and buried his head in his 
hands. Burke glanced in at him and then passed 
the door, but the guest sat perfectly motionless. 
This man was searching earnestly for his mind, 
for his memory, for a long-forgotten world, in 
which there were ambitions, and joys, and achieve- 
ments worth while! No struggle for the regain- 
ing of a lost soul was ever more pathetic than 
this terrible battle for a lost mentality. The rec- 
ords graven by memory on the intricate convolu- 
tions of the brain are never entirely effaced except 


THE ENEMY 


55 


by death; and be they good deeds or be they bad, 
those deeds stalk from their hidden recesses of 
the scroll to confront us at the most unexpected 
moments. They may be blurred, they may be 
clogged with the dust of neglect, and faint from 
the rust of disuse, but they are there like lines 
incised in marble, to be deciphered when the sur- 
face is cleared. 

So it was that John Doe, sitting in the big li- 
brary chair, peered and peered into the dark places 
of his long-forsaken mind, until, at a sudden turn, 
he found two names: Jean! Tavy! It was then 
that he raised up and gave a great cry of anguish, 
and fell to the floor. 

He was Bow-Wow again when Burke brought 
him to, and he had forgotten the fragments which 
John Doe had remembered; but, later, he sat up 
at his lonely dinner like John Doe. Afterwards, 
in the lounging-room, with his coffee and one of 
Billy’s cigars, he was stronger than Burke had yet 
seen him. 

“Why am I here?” he unexpectedly asked. 

“ I couldn’t say, sir,” replied Burke, speculat- 
ing on that false strength; wondering how long it 
would continue. “ Mr. Lane brought you home 
last night, and told me to take care of you until he 
came back.” 


THE ENEMY 


56 

“ Who is Mr. Lane? ” 

“ An engineering architect, sir. He makes a 
speciality of large structural work. He’s quite a 
young man; and fine! You’ll see him this even- 
ing, I hope.” 

John Doe nodded his head, and gazed through 
the window at the long perspective of lights. Out 
there was the world, an unpleasant world. He 
preferred infinitely to be here. He had Mike 
Dowd’s Sink in his memory, but that seemed a 
long way off, and incredible. He wandered once 
to the door of the library and looked in, but he 
shook his head and came away. That room was 
full of wearisome problems, problems which he 
meant to solve; but just now he would wait. . He 
must have more strength. 

Burke had quietly left the room. He was in- 
tensely worried by this time. Billy had been gone 
over twenty-four hours! He brought in a glass 
of whisky. 

“ I’ll just set this on the table, sir,” he re- 
marked. “ You may want it by and by,” and he 
placed beside it a siphon of seltzer and a glass. 

John Doe reached forward mechanically, but, 
midway of the movement, he stopped and let his 
hand rest on the table. He looked at the whisky 
long and hard, and drew his hand away. There 


THE ENEMY 


57 


was his enemy! He had always known that, but 
he could not remember the time when he had of- 
fered any resistance to it. That was the thing 
which had raised a veil of sodden vapor between 
him and all the good things which he now strove 
to recall. No foe lurking in grass, knife between 
teeth, could be more vicious than this ; no noxious 
snake could be more deadly; and yet there grew 
up in him a sudden wild craving for it ! It seemed 
a thing of life, as it gleamed there yellow in its 
glass; it seemed to taunt and mock him; it seemed 
to boast that, within a few minutes, its deadening 
fumes would be seeping upward into his brain, and 
obliterating again all those dimly incised lines 
which he was now striving so hard to decipher ! 
What was it that he had remembered just before 
dinner? Unconsciously, as he concentrated, he 
reached out for the glass of whisky. His fingers 
touched the cold surface, and he hastily drew back 
his hand. 

God! He must have it! There was a devil 
in him that cried out for it. There was not a 
fiber in him which did not crave it! It was life! 
Suddenly, with an inarticulate gasp, he clutched the 
glass ! He was trembling in every nerve as he 
raised it towards his lips. 

At that moment the door opened, and there 


THE ENEMY 


58 

walked in Tommy Tinkle, half supporting and half 
dragging Billy Lane. Tommy, with his silk hat 
on the back of his head and that perpetual grin on 
his lips, helped his friend into a chair, where Billy 
sprawled, his arms dangling and his chin on his 
breast. His mouth was half open, and he was 
breathing heavily. 

Tommy bowed gravely to the stranger, who still 
stood with his glass in his hand. 

“ The same to you and many of ’em,” he ob- 
served cheerfully. “ Drink hearty and have an- 
other.” 

Burke came running in, and, paying no atten- 
tion to either Tommy or John Doe, stooped and 
began taking off Billy’s shoes. 

“ Whisky again, sir,” he said, looking up at 
Tommy reproachfully. 

There was a sudden crash of glass, and the 
sudden upleaping of flame. John Doe had thrown 
his whisky in the fireplace. 


CHAPTER VI 


A FAMILY AFFAIR 

G eraldine benning was furious — 

and something more ! At dinner her eyes 
were red. 

“ I am tremendously disappointed in Billy,” ob- 
served the plump and placid Mrs. Benning. Her 
round, smooth face was as clear of texture as 
Geraldine’s, and her eyes were as large. “ He has 
always been such a nice boy.” 

“ He never could have been nice ! ” snapped 
Geraldine. “He only seemed nice! If he had 
been, he couldn’t have done what he did ! ” 

“ That sounds true, Geraldine, but it isn’t quite,” 
judged her father. “ Of course it was an unpar- 
donable thing to do — but ” 

“ But he did it ! ” interrupted Geraldine sav- 
agely. 

Her father thoughtfully poured himself a glass 
of wine. He was a pink-faced man, and the very 
personification of good nature; but thoughtfulness 

59 


60 THE ENEMY 

became him. He was so conscientious about it. 

“ I’m worried over Billy,” he resumed. “ He 
seems to have gradually increased his drinking, and 
he’s not the right temperament for it. That was 
why I wanted to keep him here this morning. You 
made a mistake, Geraldine.” 

“ Billy and Tommy should have respected Ger- 
aldine enough not to have come, in their condi- 
tion,” remarked Mrs. Benning, and her eyelids be- 
gan to redden. It gave her a trace of glitter. “ I 
am no friend to whisky.” 

Three-B Benning’s neck crimsoned. He took 
his three nips a day, and it seemed to agree with 
him. He had never in his life been intoxi- 
cated. 

“ You are right, my dear,” acknowledged the 
head of the house, passing hastily from that sug- 
gested topic. “ The boys should not have come 
here in their condition, but they did not realize 
that they were in that condition, and I know, and 
you know, and Geraldine knows, that they posi- 
tively meant no disrespect to her.” Geraldine in- 
terrupted with a sniff, but her father went straight 
on, in spite of all his uncomfortable experiences. 
“ They only meant to give Geraldine a pleasant 
morning ride. I saw them myself. When they 
came they were in a happy mood.” 


THE ENEMY 6 1 

“ I suppose you think I should have gone with 
them ! ” Geraldine’s cheeks were blazing. 

“ Intoxicated as they were ! ” supplemented 
Mrs. Benning, fanning herself violently. 

“ Certainly not! ” and Three-B Benning’s voice 
lowered one degree toward his best bass range. 
He felt that he was being put wrong, and he held 
himself in. “ I would have been the first to forbid 
Geraldine’s taking that ride. However, as I said 
before, the boys were in a happy mood. I asked 
them to breakfast with me. I could have handled 
them, and sent Billy to his very important work.” 

“ He should have remembered that himself ! ” 

“ Geraldine had a good natured man to deal 
with. She antagonized him with a flare of temper, 
and made him stubborn. She advised him to go 
get as drunk as he could. And he did it.” 

“ Why, you’re actually blaming me for the whole 
disgraceful thing! ” Geraldine’s indignation was 
almost hysterical. 

“ Why, Puss!” remonstrated her father, 
shocked, and his tone was all tenderness. “ You 
know better than that. You are young, and inex- 
perienced in everything relating to the world’s 
greatest tragedy. If Billy were not so well worth 
saving, I would not be so serious about our re- 
sponsibility of this morning. Billy has too bril- 


62 


THE ENEMY 


liant a future to throw away. He’s a fine boy. 
He has almost grown up in this house. He is like 
a son to me.” 

“ I think a wife might keep Billy straight.” 
This sage observation came from Mrs. Benning, 
who gave herself great credit that Three B. had 
become the nice man he was. 

“ It is a dangerous thing for any girl to try,” 
said Benning, shaking his head thoughtfully and 
sipping at his wine. 

Geraldine compressed her red lips. 

“ If she were severe enough with him, he could 
soon be controlled,” she declared with wise specula- 
tion; and then her father laughed at her. To his 
profound astonishment, she jumped from her chair 
and hurried to her room, with her handkerchief 
to her eyes. She retired early that night, but she 
went to sleep late. Had she been in any degree 
to blame for Billy’s conduct between his two visits? 
And why hadn’t Tommy come back? Somehow, 
no one had worried about Tommy. There had 
not seemed to be an impression that Tommy was in 
any danger. 

By morning Geraldine had settled into cold an- 
ger. At ten o’clock there came a box of gorgeous 
American Beauties. She knew that, since they 
were from Billy’s florist, they must be from Billy ; 


THE ENEMY 


63 

but she opened them to make sure. Stunning roses 
they were, each one perfect, sweet, and it seemed a 
shame that their beauty should be connected with 
such thoughts as she now associated with Billy. 
She buried her face among the cool leaves and in- 
haled their wonderful fragrance. Because she was 
angry with Billy was no reason she should not do 
this. The flowers couldn’t help it. Carefully she 
tied up the box again, with her own hands, and sent 
the roses back! There had been a note, an apol- 
ogy, no doubt ; but there are some things for which 
no apologies can make amends ! 

Tommy’s flowers came by and by. She sent 
them back unopened. She loved flowers ! 

At one o’clock there arrived a package of her 
favorite candy; but she returned that without a 
qualm. The candy was not alive like the roses. 

She had intended to go out that afternoon, 
but she changed her mind. She might as well 
settle this once for all. She went up to her room, 
and selected her prettiest tea-gown, the one with 
the pale blue fur, and in her golden brown hair 
she wound a string of turquoise beads. Sorrow 
had not yet dimmed her eyes nor faded the bloom 
in her cheeks. 

At three o’clock Billy came; and that was the 
moment of her deadliest disdain. She was not at 


THE ENEMY 


64 

home ! When Billy looked up at her boudoir win- 
dow she was sitting there calmly reading, and, most 
subtle touch of all, by her side stood a vase of 
great, flaming American Beauties ! 

There were six telephone calls for her between 
that and eight o’clock, but she answered none of 
them. She was distinctly and decidedly not at 
home! Nor was she at home when Tommy 
Tinkle called at eight-fifteen. 

Another morning. She was coldly indifferent 
now. She had buried the past, and looked for- 
ward to a new life; a Billyless and Tommyless life, 
and consequently a serene one. Both letters she 
had re-enclosed, unopened, of course; but, other 
than that, the boys were entirely out of her mind. 

Again she remained at home in the afternoon, 
but if she had expected to be annoyed by further 
pursuit, she was mistaken, for no one called, ex- 
cept Count Tommassio Tinklario, who came with 
a letter of introduction from Nellie Sayers, then in 
Washington. 

Excited and wondering, Geraldine dressed her- 
self in her new white velvet with the quaint ermine 
collar and sash, and, fair and warmly tinted, went 
down to receive the Italian nobleman. 

He wore the correct black mustache, and was 
standing by the window when she entered the recep- 


THE ENEMY 


65 


tion parlor. He was a rather squarely built gentle- 
man, even in his trimly fitted cutaway. As she ad- 
vanced to meet him, he came swiftly over to her 
with both hands outstretched, and said: 

“ Hello, Geraldine.” 

Thereupon the Italian nobleman removed his 
black mustache with a flourish, and grinned in de- 
light. 

“Tommy Tinkle!” gasped Geraldine. “Of 
all the idiotic . . .” 

She suddenly remembered that part of her furi- 
ous anger with Billy was directed at Tommy. 
“ This is unpardonable,” she coldly told him, and 
turning, she sailed majestically for the door. 

“ No you don’t! ” laughed Tommy, and inter- 
cepted her. “ You don’t know what a dickens of a 
time I’ve had to break in here. I had to stand 
over the engraver to get just that single card; and 
I tore up a dozen letters before I could write one 
which looked enough like sister Nellie’s. Say, 
what do you think of the mustache ? Look ! ” and 
he put it on upside down. “ Doesn’t make much 
difference how you wear it, you know. It’s almost 
the same either way,” and he changed it, to show 
her. 

Of course she laughed; but that did not mean 
that she had lessened her anger. It only made the 


66 


THE ENEMY 


earnestness of her determination more difficult to 
display. She started to sweep past him; but 
shucks ! he went with her ; even took her arm, in 
fact. 

“ I don’t blame you for never speaking to Billy 
again,” he cheerfully informed her; “ but you can’t 
hold anything against me, because I apologize.” 

“ It’s just like one of your ghastly practical jokes 
to have sent Billy back here that night! ” she hotly 
charged him, and she did not see the little twitch 
in Tommy’s humorous countenance. u It was all 
your fault! Billy is always with you when things 
happen! You have a bad influence on him! ” 

“ Then why do you blame Billy? ” triumphantly 
argued Tommy, and he grinned. “ Poor Billy’s 
all broke up about it, Geraldine.” 

“It serves him right!” she retorted. “He 
should be ! ” 

“ Well, it wasn’t really his fault,” Tommy told 
her, and led her towards the library. “ I thought 
it would be a great joke, but nobody else seemed to 
have any sense of humor.” 

“ It’s no credit to Billy that he’s weak enough 
to let you lead him into mischief ! ” 

“ I give up ! ” announced Tommy despondently. 
“ I came to do my best for Billy, but I see it’s no 
use ! I’ll tell him we’re not to be forgiven, and we 


THE ENEMY 


67 

are not to bother you again ! ” He was very sor- 
rowful as they turned in at the library door. “ I 
will not even bother you again with Billy’s apolo- 
gies ! ” They rounded the corner of the palm 
screen. “ Why, hello, Billy ! What are you do- 
ing here? ” 

There he stood, right in front of her, tall and 
straight and handsome, but red with shame. He 
tried to say something, but humiliation tied his 
tongue, and Geraldine, without knowing just why, 
held out her hands to him. He took them both, 
and down into her brown eyes gazed all his contrite 
apologies. 

Good old Tommy Tinkle ! 


CHAPTER VII 


IT IS NOT GOOD TO FORGET 

J EAN! Tavy! Those were the two words 
which were oftenest upon the lips of John 
Doe, in the long days of delirium following 
his sudden stoppage of the poison with which, for 
years, he had drenched himself; and those were the 
two words which remained with him after the days 
of delirium were past. However, when he had 
come to full consciousness, those words were never 
on his tongue. He merely lay for silent hours, 
and thought about them; and with each day of 
thought the sadness grew deeper upon his counte- 
nance. 

Not that he dwelt upon this alone. There were 
many other things to occupy his mind, by turns. In 
his desperate illness he had come up through a long, 
dark tunnel, but there had been light at the end; 
and he had reached the light! He understood 
now, for example, the exact meaning of those 
queerly angling lines on Billy’s drawing board, and 
when, weak and emaciated, he rose from his bed in 
the blue room, supported on the strong arm of 
68 


THE ENEMY 


69 

Burke, his first journey was to that board. He 
spread his arms over it, as if it were a thing of life 
that he loved, and he bent down his head. When 
he raised, his eyes were moist. The bleariness had 
gone from them now. They were clear, and dark 
gray, and there was a dignity in them which had 
grown as his sadness had grown. 

Billy, bounding in from his work, at dinner-time, 
found Doe at the drawing-board engaged in con- 
templative study. 

“ Well, well ! ” exclaimed the young man in de- 
light. “ Burke told me you’d be up to-day, but I 
didn’t expect to find you working.” 

“ I don’t believe I can stay away from it for 
long,” returned Doe with a smile. His lips had 
begun to have form. “ How are you coming on 
with the Pannard foundation?” This had been 
his first question every night during his convales- 
cence. 

“ Great ! ” Billy picked up a decanter from the 
library table and poured himself a drink. “ We 
are through with the test borings, and have discov- 
ered that your diagnosis was correct to the most 
minute detail.” 

Doe tapped on the drawing-board with his pen- 
cil, sliding it through and through his fingers ; point, 
heel; point, heel. 


70 


THE ENEMY 


“ Billy, I don’t care much for the truss you arc 
using over this assembly room,” and he turned with 
concern to the drawing. 

“ It’s the best type known for the purpose,” 
stated Billy, edging up to the board and studying 
the drawing critically. “ As you see, I have not 
much height to spare, and there is no construction 
for spanning a wide space so good as the Stuart 
truss.” 

John Doe stopped for only a second in the twirl- 
ing of his pencil, and in that second his lips com- 
pressed; then he went on sliding his fingers down 
over the pencil and turning it; point, heel; point, 
heel. 

“ The Stuart truss,” he repeated, and then he 
was quiet for a moment longer. He roused him- 
self with a slight jerk of his head and shoulders. 
u That truss was designed for a specific purpose, 
but it was not intended to cover cases where the sup- 
port for the thrust required such heavy construc- 
tion. Look here.” He drew a sketch-pad toward 
him, and made a few swift strokes with his pencil. 
“ Don’t you think that this principle, with some 
modification perhaps, will suit your needs better? ” 

Billy took the sketch, and, as he studied it, his 
eyes sparkled, and then narrowed. He laid down 
the paper without comment, and went to the win- 


THE ENEMY 


7i 


dow, looking out at the sky above the adjoining 
buildings. Suddenly he wheeled. “ Mr. Doe, 
what are your future plans? ” 

Doe smiled. 

“ I have none. How could I have? Remem- 
ber, I am just born.” 

“Welcome to the world!” laughed Billy. 
“ How would you like to come in with me? ” 

The tears sprang into the older man’s eyes. 

“ You don’t know me,” he reminded Billy. 

“ You’re John Doe. Whatever or whomever 
you may have been before I named you, is no con- 
cern of mine. I know this much. You can help 
me. I’m a good, solid plugger, but I am brilliant 
enough to realize that I haven’t creative genius. 
You have. I need it in my business.” He turned 
to the sketch again. 

John Doe was silent, though he tried to speak. 
He held out his hand instead. 

“ Then it’s agreed ! ” declared Billy, looking 
hastily away from the man’s eyes; but he shook 
hands heartily. “ From now on, it’s John and 
Billy.” 

Burke appeared in the doorway and smiled 
broadly at the tableau. 

“ Shall you dress for dinner, sir? ” he inquired. 

“ It depends on John,” returned Billy. “ If 


72 


THE ENEMY 


he’s going back to bed I think I’ll make a quick 
ceremony of it, and sit with him a while.” 

“ I should prefer to dress,” considered John. 
“ I’ve been in bed so long.” 

At dinner there was another change in Lane’s 
attitude toward the man who had been Bow-Wow; 
and the change was like Burke’s had been. So far 
he had only seen him in the frowsy habiliments of 
a tramp, and in robe and slippers. He was a dif- 
ferent person in formal garb, and once more Billy 
pondered curiously on the man’s past. He had 
been a gentleman, at least. That much was cer- 
tain. How had he fallen so low? And by what 
strange fate had Billy found him? And where 
was it all to lead? To bigger business! 

The kindliness of the young architect came out 
at dinner. He had discovered that too long an 
effort at concentration both wearied and confused 
Doe, who was not yet quite clear; so Billy chatted 
away about everything under the sun. Over their 
coffee and cigars in the lounging-room, he returned 
to business. For the time being he left the dis- 
cussion of terms in the background, but he laid be- 
fore Doe all his plans and projects and prospects; 
and the older man listened with grave attention. 

Suddenly, however, in the very midst of this 


THE ENEMY 


73 

quiet talk, Doe stood up and stretched forth his 
clenched fists. 

“ Billy! ” There was in his voice that anguish 
which, in the cries of men or beasts, has started 
the springs of sympathy since the world began. 
“ My wife! My little girl! I want them!” 
His features were working convulsively, and Lane 
sprang to his side, in fear that he might fall. 
Doe shook his head. He was strong enough now. 
He had new strength. He forced himself to sit 
down. “ I want you to find them for me. I 
haven’t seen them for fifteen years. My little 
Tavy should be a young woman.” He paused 
a moment while he tried to picture her. “ And 
Jean — is she living or dead ? I must know ! It 
is a torture to me through every hour of the long 
nights ! ” 

“ We’ll find them for you.” Billy tried to speak 
with his usual hearty assurance, but there was a 
curious break in his voice, and he felt a queer 
numbness in his cheeks. This was the first time 
he had been quite near to any big emotion, and all 
life, in that moment, seemed to be full of the im- 
minence of unexpected misery. “ Where did you 
leave them? ” 

“ In Willowwood, but they moved away from 


74 


THE ENEMY 


there shortly after I disappeared. That was while 
I still remembered things. Afterwards, I — I for- 
got. It was hard work at first ; but I forgot.” 

The young man gazed steadily into the fire. 
He was listening intently, but he felt that he must 
not interrupt. There was a short silence, in which 
John Doe struggled with himself. Humiliation 
had been a possibility long absent from Bow-Wow, 
but it had come back as a benign gift to John 
Doe. 

“ I had an enemy, Billy,” he finally said, and he 
glanced toward the decanter. “ It — it got me ! 
I neglecfed my business. I neglected my family. 
I broke promise after promise. I was expelled 
from my clubs, but, through it all, with the losses 
of position, money, honor, manhood, self-respect, 
I clung to one thing as if it were more precious 
than all the priceless treasures of the world; 
whisky ! I made a god of it ! I devoted my days 
and nights to it ; then weeks, then months. 

“One day, after a prolonged spree, I had a 
lucid hour. In that hour I converted every secur- 
ity I had into cash, and banked it in my wife’s 
name. Then I sent her a note that I was dead; 
and I died.” 

There was a long silence. 

“ But you have come back to life,” Billy pres- 


THE ENEMY 


75 

ently reminded him, returning slowly from his con- 
templation of this deep tragedy. 

“ No,” denied the low voice of the man who had 
come back from Hades with silvered hair and 
emaciated body and torn heart; “ John Doe came 
to life, thanks to your goodness; but the grave still 
holds Harrison Stuart.” 

“ My God ! ” Billy could not have been more 
astounded if the tomb had suddenly yawned to set 
this man before him. 44 Not the Harrison Stuart 
who built the old Palace of Commerce, the first 
important structural iron edifice in America ! Not 
the Harrison Stuart, of 4 Stuart on Trusses,’ 
4 Stuart on Bridges,’ 4 Stuart on Stresses and 
Strains ’ ! Why, man, I’ve used those authorities 
as my professional ten commandments ! ” Billy’s 
eyes were glowing. He was boyishly excited. He 
rose and paced the floor. Suddenly he laughed. 
44 Why, Mr. Stuart, on the very night I met you, 
Joe Mullen said that he wished Harrison Stuart 
were alive ! And I was touching elbows with you 
at the time! You must have heard it! Is that 
why you spoke to me about the Pannard founda- 
tion?” 

The dean of the engineering architects knotted 
his brow painfully. 

44 I don’t know,” he pondered. 44 1 don’t re- 


THE ENEMY 


7 6 

member. I don’t think so. Oh, I wish I could 
forget all that hideous nightmare!” A second 
later he brought his fist down on the arm of his 
chair. “No!” he vehemently declared. “I 
must not forget! It is not good for a man to for- 
get anything that he has done! He needs it for 
the correction of his heart and for the life of his 
very soul ! I wish never again to forget.” 

“ And, by George, I’m to have Harrison Stuart 
for a partner!” Billy, walking the floor, could 
not free his mind from the marvelous fact. 
“ Stuart, the first thing to do is to locate your fam- 
ily. If you left them fairly well-to-do, they should 
be easily traced, and we’ll not attempt to do any- 
thing in a business way until you have been re- 
united with them.” 

“ No ! ” The explosive refusal was wrung 
from Harrison Stuart as if it had brought a piece 
of his heart with it. “ I don’t dare! I can only 
hope to know that they are safe! So long as I 
must look on that decanter with fear, I must remain 
John Doe; to them, to you, to the world — to my- 
self!” 


CHAPTER VIII 


BILLY AND THE IMPS 

T HREE blocks from the Bowery, three 
blocks from the corner of Mike Dowd’s 
Sink, and quite visible through the narrow 
slit of the alley, is Vanheuster Square, where once 
the stolid burghers sat, of pleasant evenings, and 
smoked their long clay pipes, and commented in 
wide-mouthed gruffness on the invasion of the ver- 
dampt English, who had come to disturb the peace 
and order of New Amsterdam. There still re- 
main portions of the squat little foundation and of 
two of the stone benches which were once the mu- 
nicipal glory of that old Dutch town ; and the sur- 
face of the ground, in one corner, is still ridged and 
hard from the roots of the sturdy elm which once 
reared its branches above the tops of the highest 
buildings in old New York. 

Traces of its staid old respectability still linger 
in Vanheuster Square, as if the spirit of old Dynk 
Vanheuster still hovered austerely over it, to pro- 
tect it from the squalor of all those strange black- 
77 


THE ENEMY 


78 

eyed aliens who surround it on every side. Here 
the old tenements, though sunk in poverty, stand 
stiff and prim, as if they had defied time and decay; 
here there are green shutters to all the windows, 
and hard little flights of stone steps lead down from 
every door; here the children after school wear 
clean white waists or clean white pinafores, as they 
play in the graveled square, which, with its four 
clumps of starved grass, is their substitute for the 
country; and here Billy Lane’s search led him, 
after busy days among the false Stuarts of the tele- 
phone book and the city directory and the tax rec- 
ords. The police department, applied to with 
some misgiving, had been Billy’s last resort, and 
that inquiry had sifted down, after some fruitless 
calls, to Officer Dillon, big and pigeon-chested and 
puff-cheeked, who knew vaguely of a Mrs. Harri- 
son Stuart on his beat. 

At the primmest and stiffest of the Vanheuster 
Square tenements, the house with the greenest 
shutters and the hardest stone steps, Billy Lane 
stopped, on an afternoon when the air was soft 
and the sun shone brightly, and one optimistic 
robin sat on the stunted fir tree, shivering, but 
trying to pretend that it was Spring. 

There were no electric bells or speaking tubes in 
this dark, narrow hall. Those things are not for 


THE ENEMY 


79 


the poor. One simply climbed the deeply worn 
steps of the wooden stairs, flight after flight, until 
one found the right door; and it was by this process 
that Billy Lane located the apartments of Mrs. 
Harrison Stuart. He knocked, and presently the 
door was opened. For an instant, the usually self- 
possessed Billy was startled into tongue-tied 
awkwardness. There stood before him the most 
beautiful girl he had ever seen ! 

She was small and slight, and exquisitely molded. 
But it was her face which held his gaze, even to the 
point of unconscious rudeness. Her oval cheeks 
were pale, but her skin was of a glorious transpar- 
ency, and beneath its surface was a warm tint so 
delicate that it was like the faint trace of pink in 
the heart of a white rose. Upon her head was a 
wealth of raven black hair, which rippled and 
waved and curled as if it possessed an independent 
will of its own. It was bound, just now, with a 
shell-pink ribbon, but wherever a curl had a way- 
ward notion it had shot itself loose, to cast its lus- 
trous ringlets about that perfect face. It was the 
eyes, however, which caught and held Billy, spell- 
bound ! They were large, luminous — and what 
color? Dark gray? Brown? No; violet! Or 
were they a deep, evasive blue? 

The girl smiled at his hesitation, and, as her 


8o 


THE ENEMY 


delicately chiselled lips curved, those remarkable 
eyes sparkled, and a certain trace of impishness 
seemed to flit, for a moment, upon her counte- 
nance. Even the daintily formed nose and the 
piquant chin and the broad, smooth forehead 
seemed to share in the flash of merriment, and the 
countless wayward curls of jet fairly twinkled. 

“ Tavy! ” called a voice from within an adjoin- 
ing room. 

“ Yes, mother.” The voice on those syllables 
was of wonderfully sweet modulation. “ I am at 
the door.” 

“ Oh.” The inner voice was nearer. 

“ Is — does Mrs. Harrison Stuart live here? ” 
stammered Billy, feeling remarkably big and 
clumsy. 

Still a twinkle in the big eyes. They were 
violet ! 

“ Yes.” 

“ May I ask if it is the Mrs. Harrison Stuart 
whose husband was the famous engineering archi- 
tect?” 

“ Yes.” The twinkle had gone from the lumi- 
nous eyes. They were regarding him steadily. 
They were dark gray! 

A second figure came to the door and appeared 
beside the girl. It was a woman in whose face 


THE ENEMY 


81 


was that sweetness which can only come through 
bravely endured suffering. She said nothing. 
She only looked at the caller eagerly, and there 
seemed a half hope, a half fear in her. She 
seemed almost to tremble. 

“ Thank you. May I come in and talk with 
you?” This to the gray-haired woman; and it 
was she who opened the door wider for him to 
enter. 

Billy Lane took a hasty survey of the room 
as he stepped in. It was large, a grace which it 
owed to its age ; and it was very simply furnished, 
though there were such evidences of neatness and 
dainty cleanliness, and of such homelike occupancy, 
that it seemed a very comfortable room indeed. 
There were three incongruities, however. In one 
corner was a mahogany drawing-case, exquisitely 
carved and with gold knobs to the drawers. 
There was a gold inscription plate on it, showing 
that it had been some stately gift; and its cost 
would have bought, many times over, the entire 
poor furnishings of Mrs. Harrison Stuart’s three- 
room apartment. On the mantel, amid such mod- 
est bric-a-brac as people in most humble circum- 
stances might afford, stood a richly chased gold 
frame, in which was the portrait of a man in his 
prime, a man with a strong, forceful face and dark 


82 


THE ENEMY 


gray eyes. Could John Doe have looked like that 
— or could Bow-Wow ! 

The other incongruity was a long table over by 
the windows, on which was a small embroidery 
loom, a tray filled with many little compartments 
full of assorted beads, a water-color box surrounded 
by half-painted place cards set up to dry, and a 
perfect kaleidoscope of bright colored bits of silk. 
On the table, too, were several fantastic dolls, all 
of them in the same queer stage of semi-comple- 
tion; elaborate court costumes from the waists 
down, and chiefly stufledness and baldheadedness 
from the waist up. Yet, with all this confusion 
of purpose and means, there was neatness and 
dainty cleanliness, even here. 

“ Won’t you sit down?” invited Mrs. Stuart, 
who had subjected the young man to the same 
rigid inspection he had given their work table. 

Billy felt guilty of rudeness, but he found instant 
justification. He had a report to make, and he 
would be asked an infinity of questions at home. 
He hoped to be able to answer some of the most 
likely ones. 

“ My name is Billy Lane,” he began, conscious 
that the dark gray eyes were sparkling with the 
prim formality of this opening. Or were they vio- 
let now ? He withheld himself from looking. “ I 


THE ENEMY 83 

am an engineering architect. I was an ardent 
student of your husband’s books.” 

“Yes?” The hands of Mrs. Stuart held a 
piece of the bright colored silk; evidently the 
jacket of one of the fine court ladies on the table; 
but her long, thin fingers locked through the silk 
as she bent forward eagerly. 

“ Mr. Stuart died some fifteen years ago, I be- 
lieve.” 

There was an instant unlocking of the long, 
thin fingers, and, for a moment, they fluttered, then 
re-locked, and a light leaped into the patient blue 
eyes. 

“ Yes.” Still bent eagerly forward. 

Billy felt the dark gray eyes of the girl studying 
him seriously now, and he was more at ease. He 
even glanced at them. By George, they were 
brown ! Or was that the reflection from the pink 
dress ? It was a neat little dress, a daintily 
checked gingham, plain and trim fitting, but most 
advantageous to a girl with such an exquisite little 
figure, and such a glorious complexion, and such 
waywardly curly black hair, and such wonderful 
eyes! Where was he in the conversation? Oh. 

“ I understand that Mr. Stuart left the uncom- 
pleted manuscript of a work on roofs and towers.” 

“Yes.” The light of never-dying hope faded 


8 4 


THE ENEMY 


once more from the patient blue eyes. No news 
of him! The long, thin fingers unlocked, and 
took up the tiny silk jacket. 

“ A personal need for authoritative information 
on that subject has given me an interest in this mat- 
ter, and it had occurred to me that Mr. Stuart’s 
manuscript might be in such shape as to make its 
publication possible. It should be of considerable 
financial value to you. Also, it would be of vast 
benefit to students of structural iron work. Har- 
rison Stuart,” and here he included both mother 
and daughter in his genuine enthusiasm, “ was so 
far ahead of his time that they haven’t caught up 
with him yet ! ” 

A bright smile rewarded him for the tribute. 
It was a friendly smile, in which there was no imp- 
ishness, a smile of delicately curving red lips, of 
pearly teeth, of flashing dimples, of twinkling black 
curls, of large, luminous eyes; dark blue! 

“ I scarcely think it possible.” Mrs. Stuart ex- 
amined the tiny silk jacket critically. There was a 
threaded needle sticking in it. She drew out the 
needle and took a stitch or two. “ Mr. Stuart’s 
former publishers, shortly after his death,” a slight 
hesitation before that word, “ examined the manu- 
script, and they pronounced it too incomplete for 
publication.” 


THE ENEMY 


85 

“ I had an impression that such was the case, 
Mrs. Stuart,” Billy went on, most uncomfortably. 
He felt, somehow, like a traitor, in the presence 
of these women, knowing what he did. He had 
only to say one sentence to bring such happiness 
into this room as it had not known for years! 
He had a terrific impulse to say it, an impulse so 
strong that it frightened him. “ It occurs to me, 
however, that we might have some competent per- 
son complete the work,” he hastily concluded. 

Mrs. Stuart sewed up the rest of the seam. The 
girl walked over and looked out of the window. 
She was gazing straight down towards Mike 
Dowd’s Sink. How often must Bow-Wow have 
passed within her range of vision ! 

“ It is impossible,” decided Mrs. Stuart, and the 
girl flashed a smile at her mother, a fond smile 
this one was, and there was something of the 
mother’s patient sweetness in it. Of what a va- 
riety of moods was she capable ! “ I could not 

permit Mr. Stuart’s name to be appended to a 
work which could not be wholly his own,” went on 
Mrs. Stuart, with that quiet dignity which is bred 
in the gentlewoman with her soft slurring of r’s. 
She relaxed her fingers in her lap, the gay little 
crimson jacket lying among them. She looked 
Billy Lane squarely in the eye, and her white 


86 


THE ENEMY 


cheeks flushed, as she modestly added: “Mr. 
Stuart was so exact an authority that I feel it my 
duty to protect his reputation.” 

Ah! That much he had left her at any rate, 
that much of pride in him ! 

“Naturally,” agreed Billy — reviling himself 
for his clumsiness. The girl in the window was 
standing extremely stiff and straight. One black 
curl had strayed down on her white neck, calling in- 
sistent attention to that beautiful, smooth, round 
column. “ However, Mrs. Stuart,” Billy went on, 
trying to remove his gaze from that curl, “ would 
it not be possible to have this manuscript completed 
and edited by the most competent person to be 
found, and published under another name, or 
anonymously? The financial returns to you would 
be practically the same, and frankly, I believe it 
to be your duty to give to the world as much as 
you can of the technical genius of Harrison Stuart.” 

That was a new phase ! Mrs. Stuart picked up 
the little crimson jacket and examined it thor- 
oughly, but there was not another stitch to be put 
in it. She laid it down again. 

“ I don’t know,” she wavered. 

“ You might think it over,” suggested Billy. 
“ Here is my card. If you care to take up this 
proposition, I should be glad to have you let me 


THE ENEMY 


87 


know. Or, may I call; some time next week, 
say?” In spite of himself, his gaze, as he said 
this, roved to the girl in the window. Again she 
was smiling at him, and this time there was an imp 
in every elfin curl. 


CHAPTER IX 


CONSPIRACY 


A 


LIVE!” 


And well ! ” shouted Billy. 


“Thank God!” He knew it even 
before Billy had spoken, knew it before he had 
seen Billy’s face, knew it from Billy’s tread in the 
hall and his vigorous throwing open of the door, 
knew that at last they had been found, that they 
were alive, that they were well! He buried his 
face in his hands; but he straightened up quickly. 
Oh, yes, straightened and smiled; though the tears 
were streaming down his cheeks. It was a smile 
of such heartfelt thanksgiving that no verbal 
prayer of praise could have expressed it. 

“ Now, tell me ! ” He sat down, to show that 
he could be perfectly quiet, and he put his hands 
on his knees. “Tell me all about it! Tell me 
everything! Sit down, Billy! ” and the older man 
hitched his chair closer. “ How do they look? 
How have they prospered? Jean, my wife? 


88 


THE ENEMY 89 

And what is my little Tavy like? Billy! Tell 
me! ” 

“ In a minute,” laughed Billy. “ I’ll have to 
sort those questions, Stuart. First of all, your 
little girl — Say, what is her regular name? ” 

“ Octavia. What about her ? ” 

“Well, she’s a beauty! A regular stunner, 
Stuart ! Big, dark eyes, but I couldn’t tell exactly 
what color they are. Dark gray, like yours, I 
think. I never saw eyes so changeable; and they 
seem to read a fellow through and through ! She 
must think I’m a blithering idiot, the way I stam- 
mered around when she came to the door. 
You see, I had just climbed four flights of 
stairs ” 

The old man, who had been listening with every 
expression of delight, suddenly held out his hand, 
and his face paled. 

“ Wait,” he interrupted. “ You say you had 
climbed four flights of stairs. Where were 
they?” 

Billy gulped and thought quickly. 

“ In some mighty cozy apartments downtown. 
I never saw a more cheerful and homelike room in 
my life than the one I was in ! ” and he looked with 
disdain on his quarters. There was a world of 
ease in them, but no home. “ They had your ma- 


9 o THE ENEMY 

hogany drawing-desk in that room. It’s a hand- 
some thing! ” 

The old man’s face softened. At least they 
were not poor! If the apartment corresponded 
to that mahogany desk, and he well knew the good 
taste of Jean, they were in comfortable circum- 
stances. No doubt apartments would be more 
convenient for two lone women. 

“ Jean ! ” he begged. “ What of her ? ” 

“ She is beautiful, too, and sweet. Of course 
her hair is gray.” 

“ Tell me, Billy! ” The words faltered on his 
tongue. “ Her face ; does it show much suffer- 
ing? ” 

“ No.” Billy smiled reassuringly, though re- 
membering the pathos in the patient eyes. “ She 
has suffered to be sure, but her smile is angelic. 
Your daughter has a touch of her smile. She has 
the blackest hair that I have ever seen ! It curls 
all over her head, little curls and big curls and tight 
curls and soft rolling ones. I never saw so many 
curls!” 

Stuart, too, was laughing, rocking backward and 
forward in his chair and slapping his waxen white 
hands on his knees. 

“Just like when she was a kiddie!” he ex- 
claimed. “ She was five years old when I last saw 


THE ENEMY 


9i 


her, and bright as a dollar ! Just about this high,” 
and he stretched out his hand as if she were stand- 
ing at his knee, and he were patting her head. “ I 
used to call her all sorts of names based on those 
inky curls, but she would have none of them. 
‘ Tavy ’ was her name, and nothing else would do 1 
She couldn’t say Octavia.” He mused, and 
smiled in fondness. “ What did you think of my 
library? ” 

“ I wasn’t in the library,” Billy acknowledged 
slowly, feeling that he was on dangerous ground. 

“ But the drawing-desk,” puzzled Stuart. 
“ That was always kept with the library. It fitted 
so well with the old mahogany bookcases. In 
what room was the desk? ” 

“ Oh, just a sort of general room,” evaded the 
young man. 

“ I know,” smiled Stuart, quite content. “ But 
it will be all strange to me, for the taste of Jean 
will be supplemented by the taste of Tavy, and of 
course she has ideas of her own. She had them 
even as a kiddie. Are her cheeks as red as ever? ” 

“Red? No!” vigorously denied Billy. 
“ They’re a more delicate tone than was ever 
spread on old ivory out of the most carefully fur- 
nished pallet box. She is like a pink pearl ! She 
is like a wild white rose touched with the sunset! 


92 


THE ENEMY 


She’s a marvel, Stuart! She would set an artist 
mad, with her dainty coloring and her perfectly 
classical features! She is one who startles, and 
then attracts — compelling you to study her detail 
by detail! ” and Billy warmed to his work, as he 
read in the glistening eyes of his partner the joy 
and the pride in this recital. “ She beats anything 
I’ve seen in New York; and I’ve been around 
some ! If she ever puts on a fluffy gown and ap- 
pears on the Avenue, she’ll be ” 

“ On the Avenue?” The expression of keen 
delight faded from Stuart’s face, and he studied 
the younger man sharply. “If she ever puts on 
a fluffy gown — Billy; don’t hide anything from 
me. 

Lane blushed. This had been his day for feel- 
ing contemptible. 

“ Well, I don’t think they’re rich, if that’s what 
you mean,” he finally blurted. 

“ What’s their address? ” 

“ Seventy-nine Vanheuster Square, North.” 

“ And you walked up four flights of stairs. 
That means a cheap tenement. They were not in 
the telephone book. They were not in the tax 
list. They’re poor ! ” 

“ They’re well ! ” Billy stoutly maintained. 
“ The rest of it we’ll fix.” 


THE ENEMY 


93 


Stuart clinched his kneecaps with his lean fingers, 
and stifled a groan. 

“ They’re poor! ” he repeated, and set his teeth 
together. “ How do they live ? ” 

“ Fancy work,” plumped out Billy, driven fairly 
from cover. 

“Work!” That was the one word Stuart 
caught, the word which made him wince. “ I 
don’t understand it. I thought I left them plenty 
of money; unless Jean paid certain outstanding 
claims which I had intended to take care of myself. 
But they couldn’t have touched her money. That 
was why I turned my securities into cash for her.” 

“ That probably explains it,” surmised Billy, 
going back over their conversation. “ You know, 
Stuart, it was too bad that this accident happened 
to you ! What do you suppose she said, when I 
suggested that we could have the book completed? 
That it was her duty to protect your reputation 
for authoritative accuracy ! She was proud of it, 
old man; and so was Tavy; proud as Lucifer! 
Her chin was tilted and her eyes fairly snapped 
with pride.” 

It was on this that Stuart broke. His resistance 
enfeebled by his illness, he folded his arms on the 
table and dropped his head on them, his fingers 
clutching convulsively. 


94 


THE ENEMY 


“ Buck up, old man,” counselled Billy, pacing 
the floor in distress. He paused, and poured him- 
self a drink. “ The thing for us to do is to dig in 
and improve their condition. If you want an ad- 
vance on what we’re going to do this year, I’ll 
fork it over cheerfully. You don’t know how 
much pleasure it will give me,” and Billy was quite 
sincere about that. “ Now don’t refuse ! You’ve 
already saved my life on the Pannard Building, 
and your invention of that assembly hall truss will 
make a reputation for our firm. It’s a piker prop- 
osition to say that you’ve already earned five thou- 
sand dollars, but you can take that much without 
any feeling of obligation. Now how shall we get 
it to them? ” 

Stuart had straightened up, and he smiled his 
gratitude. He was not yet quite master of him- 
self, nor strong enough physically to expect to be. 

“ I’ve an idea ! ” presently figured Billy, as busy 
with the project as if it were a problem in floor 
loading. “ We’ll say it’s recovered from some old 
account.” It occurred to Lane that he might take 
the check around himself, and then it occurred to 
him that he would be compelled to forego that 
privilege. Mrs. Stuart might investigate. He 
gave up the gaudy plan with a sigh. “ Who was 
your attorney? ” 


THE ENEMY 


95 

“ Donald Cullam.” Stuart was eager, now, as 
eager as his young partner. 

“ Then it’s easy; unless Cullam’s dead,” re- 
joined the practical Billy. “ If he is, we’ll get 
another lawyer. Then, possibly we can make some 
money out of the book, after you’ve fussed it up. 
I am to see them about that again next week.” 
He added this last with particular zest ! 

Stuart rose and paced the floor, keeping step 
with Billy. 

“ I have something to live for! ” he said, with 
a thrill of new purpose in his voice. “ God will- 
ing, I’ll make what amends I can! I’m going 
down to the office to-morrow ! ” 

“ Don’t overtax yourself,” warned Billy and 
headed for his dressing-room, ringing for Burke 
and starting to unfasten his cravat as he went. 

“ Shall you remain to dinner to-night? ” asked 
Stuart, reaching for a cigarette. 

“ Sorry, old man, but I’ll have to allow you to 
dine alone,” returned Billy, unbuttoning his col- 
lar. “ I’m due at the Bennings’.” 

Stuart smiled, and glanced at the portrait on 
the mantel. It was a remarkably pretty face. 

“ Is my Tavy as beautiful as Miss Benning? ” 
and there was a hungriness in the tone which ex- 
cused the bluntness of the question. 


9 6 


THE ENEMY 


Billy stopped, stumped. The idea of com- 
parison had not occurred to him; and, to tell the 
truth, he had not thought of Geraldine since noon, 
when he had sent her some flowers. He looked 
toward the portrait on the mantel, and there was 
distinct worry on his brow. He ran his fingers 
twice through his hair. 

“They’re so different,” he puzzled; and then 
his face brightened. “ I don’t think there could 
be much question about it, Stuart. Your daugh- 
ter is the most amazingly beautiful creature I have 
ever seen ! ” 


CHAPTER X 


FACE TO FACE 

W HO are these gay creatures bearing the 
breeze of idleness and frivolity into the 
sedate offices of William Lane, Engi- 
neering Architect? Why Geraldine Benning and 
Tommy Tinkle! Geraldine, fresh-cheeked and 
vivacious, wears an enormous fluff of white fox; a 
scarlet plume ripples from her white fur toque, 
scarlet sweet peas on her white muff. Tommy 
Tinkle is in full afternoon regalia from spats to 
gardenia. 

The pictures on the walls of the severe little 
reception-room are all rigid iron skeletons of sky- 
scrapers. They look, as Tommy expresses it, 
like the mounted remains of deceased buildings; 
Father Building, Grand-father Building, and little 
Willie. Quite facetious about them is Tommy, 
and delivers an entertaining lecture, while they 
wait, on the anatomy of commercial edifices. He 
even attempts to trace their evolution from the 
protoplasmal pig-iron germ to their present high 
97 


THE ENEMY 


98 

state of organic development ; but he gives that up 
when the laughing Geraldine drops into a fleeting 
moment of seriousness and declares that the pic- 
tures represent achievement and accomplishment. 
Thereupon Tommy Tinkle, in a particularly in- 
fectious state of grin to-day, recites soberly, “ How 
doth the busy little hornet improve each shining 
minute; he sees a neck, he sits upon it, he jabs his 
stinger in it.” In conclusion, Tommy invents a 
tarantella step, and almost bumps into a grave 
and elderly gentleman with a silver Vandyke, 
who comes briskly in from the hall. 

“Hello, John Doe!” said Tommy, and held 
out his hand in hearty greeting. 

Smiling with pleasure, William Lane’s silent 
partner accepted the proffered hand, and smiled 
again as he glanced at Geraldine. 

“ How is Tommy Tinkle since last night? ” he 
inquired with mock solicitude. He was very fond 
of Tommy. Tommy frequently dropped around 
and played cribbage with him, when Billy was 
out. 

“ I’m amazing,” declared the person of idle- 
ness. “ I’m going to treat you, Mr. Doe. I’m 
going to permit you to meet Miss Benning. Miss 
Benning, Mr. Doe. Mr. Doe, Miss Benning.” 


THE ENEMY 


99 


Geraldine sparkled up at John Doe with instant 
liking, and he held her hand for a moment and 
patted it, with the fatherly impulse which had so 
recently sprung in his breast. 

“ I recognized you at once from the beautiful 
miniature in Billy’s library,” he observed with a 
certain stiff courtliness, which still bore the traces 
of disuse. “ You probably know the rest.” 

“ That the original is so much more charming ! ” 
promptly supplemented Tommy. “ The star- 
eyed goddess of the morn, swathed in her rusty 
sheen, spreads roseate bliss o’er all the world, 
and her name is Geraldine ! Repeat ! ” 

Now came that energetic and ambitious young 
business man, William Lane, with a long, hard 
pencil behind his ear, and a frown of concentra- 
tion reluctantly vacating his brow. 

“ Hello, loafers,” he greeted them cordially, 
though a recurrent pucker came between his eyes. 
His head was still full of angular beams and rods. 
How had he meant to relieve that weight, at the 
intersection of the tower with the thrust of his 
arch? He knew he’d lose that vague beginning 
of a solution! “May I offer you some tea?” 
He was shaking hands with Geraldine, and laugh- 
ing down into her eyes. There was a curious 


100 


THE ENEMY 


speculation in her own as she studied him. Some- 
how, Billy scarcely seemed the same! Business, 
of course. 

“ You’re to put on your bonnet and come right 
along with us,” Geraldine confidently informed 
him. 

“ Oh, am I?” Billy cocked his head side- 
wise. He heard the ’phone bell in his private 
office. “ Wedding or funeral? ” 

“ Dance,” explained Tommy. “ Mrs. Wilton 
has snapped up the Lohkawanas for this after- 
noon, and they’re to teach us the new Moukawa 
dance. It’s a modified Hoola-hoola. If you 
don’t come, you’re a has-been.” 

“ Better go, Billy,” urged John Doe, with an 
indulgent smile. “ There’s no pleasure in being 
a has-been.” 

“ Can’t make it for an hour,” worried William 
Lane, glancing at his watch; and Geraldine be- 
gan to pout. 

“ He can; can’t he, Mr. Doe? ” She appealed 
with all her pretty art. 

“ Billy must have some vital reason if he re- 
sists you,” laughed John Doe, and, with this diplo- 
matic evasion, he bowed his adieus. 

“ Make him come, Tommy! ” 

Tommy Tinkle held both hands tragically aloft. 


THE ENEMY 


IOI 


“ I have ceased to belong to the ancient order 
of Innocent Bystanders ! ” he insisted. “ When 
battle brews, I’m for the cellar ! I’m going in 
and see Doe’s collection of naked buildings. Fight 
it out,” and he followed into John Doe’s little 
private office. 

“ I don’t think it’s at all nice of you, Billy,” 
Geraldine reproached him. “ Every time there 
is anything special, you have some excuse; and I 
have to go just with Tommy. I promised Mrs. 
Wilton I’d bring you.” 

“ That’s bully of you,” and he touched a fore- 
finger affectionately to her pink chin. “ I’ll be 
out in as much under an hour as I can make it.” 

“ That won’t do.” She laughed her gay silvery 
ripple. “ You are to come with me! ” Charm- 
ing little way she had of ordering people about. 
She had ordered Billy for years. 

“ Then that’s the program.” He looked at his 
watch, and frowned in calculation. “ I can get 
Doe to take up the Pannard Building with Joe 
Mullen. Doe’s as good as I am; better. If 
you’ll wait, I think I can be foot-loose in half an 
hour; or less.” 

“ I’ll do nothing of the sort! ” She was justly 
indignant. “ Wait! You’ll put on your hat and 
come at once ! ” 


102 THE ENEMY 

Acute distress was on Lane’s good-natured 
countenance. 

“By George, I simply can’t!” He took his 
pencil from behind his ear, and replaced it. “ I 
have to tell my draughtsmen how to go ahead be- 
fore I leave this office. Just run in with Mr. Doe 
and Tommy, and wait. Please, Geraldine ! ” 

As she turned, she stopped abruptly. The hall 
door had opened, and there stood in it, diffidently, 
an extremely beautiful girl ! Geraldine glanced 
swiftly at Billy, and then followed his pleased and 
astonished eyes to the girl again. Oval face, big 
dark eyes, black curls; trim little dark blue suit, 
but inexpensive; jaunty little dark blue hat, perked 
with a stiff white feather. The eyes, large, lu- 
minous, and, for a flashing moment, as they con- 
sidered Geraldine beneath their long curving 
lashes, they seemed to change from dark gray to 
violet! Billy! He was positively beaming with 
delight! He almost rushed over to the girl! 
She was beautiful. Billy was absurdly suave, and 
there was not a trace of a girder, or a beam, or 
a bolt, nut, or even washer in his head! One 
could easily tell that ! 

“This is an unexpected pleasure!” Billy’s 
voice rang. “ Quite opportune, too ; I have some- 
thing for you ! ” 


THE ENEMY 


103 


The young lady was very prim, as her dark 
gray eyes rested demurely in the exact center of 
Billy’s frankly admiring gaze. 

“ That’s nice,” she dimpled. “ Mother has 
just discovered a few extra pages of manuscript, 
which may or may not belong to the book, and she 
thought you might need them at once. She was 
unable to come out to-day.” 

“ Too bad! ” sympathized Billy, with every ap- 
pearance of satisfaction. “ Oh, Geraldine. Miss 
Stuart, Miss Benning.” He stepped back with 
positive joy as he brought these beautiful creatures 
together. “ You don’t know what a tremendous 
pleasure it gives me to introduce you two girls.” 
Then he added the fatal sentence which, since time 
began, has proved all men to be asses. “ I’m sure 
that you’ll like each other immensely ! ” 

They did. They smiled at each other their 
intense delight at the meeting, the gray eyes and 
the brown. They each displayed a thorough ap- 
preciation of the other’s undeniable beauty. Ger- 
aldine finished with a droop of her eyes and a fluff 
of her gorgeous muff. She was most gracious ! 

They chatted. They occupied the conventional 
moment or so with wondrous ease and poise, 
though imps began to dance in the violet eyes and 
twinkle from the black curls. How sweet and 


io 4 THE ENEMY 

soft-voiced the young ladies were ! Billy was 
overjoyed. 

Geraldine turned to him with her most engag- 
ing smile. 

“ I’ll wait for you, Billy,” she cooed, and went 
in to join Tommy and John Doe. Bully girl she 
was! Always extra sweet after a flare-up. 

“ Now for the manuscript,” said Lane, and led 
the way to his private office, where, with brisk 
haste, he placed a chair at the side of his desk 
for Octavia Stuart, and sat down in his own swivel. 
Lady visitors were rare in the William Lane of- 
fices, and, moreover, this was the first time Octavia 
had called! Billy had been at the house three 
times, on business. 

“ Is your mother’s cold no better? ” he inquired 
solicitously, as the caller produced some neatly 
folded pages of manuscript from her handbag. 

“ Quite a bit, thank you,” smiled the girl, lift- 
ing her eyes to Billy’s, which was an awkward thing 
to have done, for it stopped him completely in 
something he was about to say. To save him, he 
could not remember what it was ! 

“ Colds are very disagreeable at this time of 
year.” 

“ Yes, aren’t they? ” Imps in the violet eyes, 
imps in the twinkling curls, imps in the fleeting 


THE ENEMY 


105 


dimples. She serenely waited for him to open 
the pages of manuscript, but he chucked them into 
a drawer. 

“ I haven’t had a cold this winter.” He of- 
fered that in lieu of a brilliant thought, and won- 
dered what was the matter with him. Dog-gone 
him, he wasn’t usually dumb ! 

The girl suddenly took compassion on him; nice, 
big, good-natured chap that he was. How splen- 
didly his head was set ! 

“ Here’s something you’ll like,” she smiled, and 
from her handbag she produced a sample of a 
place-card for a children’s party. She was re- 
warded by Billy’s instant hearty laugh. Such 
things as this had amused him so much the last time 
he was at the house. The sample folded into the 
shape of a Noah’s ark, with a giraffe sticking its 
head out of the chimney. “ They’re all to be dif- 
ferent, of course,” she explained; “ a monkey look- 
ing out of a window of one, and a green snake 
crawling around another, and — oh, all sorts of 
animals.” 

“ Your idea, I’ll bet. You and your mother 
have a positive genius for these little creative 
things.” He was much more at ease, except that 
he was worried. 

Why had he told her that he had something for 


io6 


THE ENEMY 


her! It rustled now in his pocket, as he closed 
the drawer in which he had put the manuscript. 
It was an advance royalty check for five hundred 
dollars, which he had wrung out of the book pub- 
lishers. Brilliant thought! A dash of color in 
the drawer had caught his eye. Tommy Tinkle’s 
fantastic sketches for a next-month costume ball. 
Wouldn’t Tommy scream when those sketches 
were reported lost! “ I said I had something for 
you, and here it is,” he happily stated, producing 
the gay little sketches. “ I thought your mother 
might use them for her dolls.” Hang Tommy! 
He could make new ones, and naturally they would 
be different. 

“Aren’t they clever! ” cried Octavia, her eyes 
sparkling. 

Billy touched his pocket with satisfaction. His 
laugh was quite care-free. 

“ By the way,” he observed, “ I’m sure to have 
a check for your mother, in the late mail. I’ll 
bring it down to the house, if I may.” 

Only a flash of the imps. The mails were still 
running, but, of course — 

“ That’s mighty nice of you.” There was a 
trace of her mother’s drawl in her voice at times. 
Delicious! It was music! Billy violently re- 


THE ENEMY 


107 

pressed the desire to mention her eyes, and her 
black curls, and a few other things. 

“ What a grand little hat ! ” He laughed at 
it as he had laughed at the place card, a laugh of 
pure delight. 

A little touch of color came into the delicately 
tinted cheeks, but she dimpled. 

“ I like it,” she confessed, and instinctively 
hunted for a change of subject. “ We have had 
a streak of good fortune, mother and I. Father’s 
former attorney has just recovered some money 
from an old account. Five thousand dollars! ” 

“ Great ! ” enthusiastically returned Billy, with 
well expressed surprise. “ By George, that’s quite 
a little windfall.” 

“ Isn’t it! ” She was most elated. “ Mother 
is so very happy about it. We shall be able to 
clear up the very last of the encumbrance which 
lay against father’s estate, and we have quite a 
bit left for outlandish luxury.” 

“ Oh,” and the blank expression on Billy’s face 
was painful. He was actually distressed. “ It’s 
a pity you have to spend any of that money for out- 
lawed claims. Can’t your father’s attorney do 
something about it? ” 

“ He’s always wanted to,” she explained. “ He 


io8 


THE ENEMY 


was angry, in the first place, because mother in- 
sisted on paying. In fact, he flatly refused. 
Mother threatened to dismiss him, years ago, on 
that account. Now we’re glad that she persisted. 
There isn’t one dollar of indebtedness against the 
name of Harrison Stuart ! ” 

She was so proud of that. There was such a 
thrill in her voice; there was such a glow in her 
dark eyes that poor Billy had a terrific struggle at 
self-restraint. 

Why the dickens wasn’t it proper, for him to 
state his sincere and frank admiration! Why 
couldn’t he just take her hand in his, say both 
hands, and make a few warm and heartfelt re- 
marks, looking deep down into her eyes mean- 
while, and — Oh, confound it ! 

“ Possibly your lawyer may recover more,” he 
suggested. They had a new job in the office, and 
John Doe was designing the entire structural work. 
He was a wonderful engineer ! Why, by George, 
Doe was this girl’s father! Strange Billy hadn’t 
thought of that before, except in an impersonal 
sort of way. He had been so occupied with the 
girl herself that he had not thought of her, in this 
office, as being so tragically related to the man 
just on the other side of the partition ! He was as- 
tounded and overawed by the dramatics of this 


THE ENEMY 


109 


stupendous thought; so much so that he scarcely 
heard the reply she made. Why, here was she, 
sitting calmly beside him, and as sweet as a basket 
of roses, and right in the next office was her long- 
lost father ! What an astounding situation ! 
Billy was absolutely lost in the contemplation 
of it. 

“ Wait just a minute,” he said, and jumped up 
with sudden impulsive decision. “ I’d like you to 
meet my partner, Mr. Doe, the man who is to re- 
vise your father’s manuscript.” Could you beat 
that ! Here was Harrison Stuart revising his own 
book, and had to pretend to be presumptuous about 
it! And here was his daughter! Tavy! “I’ll 
see if he’s in.” 

The private office of John Doe was occupied by 
Geraldine and Tommy Tinkle, and Tommy was 
making a careful, though somewhat idealized, 
sketch of Geraldine. 

“Almost ready, Billy?” inquired Geraldine, 
smiling brightly at him. There was not a trace 
of petulance in her. 

“ Don’t move,” cautioned Tommy. “ Don’t 
move or I’ll fore-shorten your nose.” 

Billy’s ears burned with guilt. 

“ I’m rushing things,” he hastily assured her, 
and hurried into the inner office, where John Doe, 


no 


THE ENEMY 


tall and gaunt, bent over his drawing-board with 
absorbed interest. 

“How are you feeling, Hal?” Billy inquired 
with anxious solicitude. The contraction “ Hal ” 
had been adopted between them as a safe com- 
promise for public and private occasions. 

“ Stronger every day,” returned the older man 
cheerfully. “ I gained a pound and a half in the 
past week.” 

Billy inspected him with a critical eye. “ Fine,” 
he decided. “ There’s a client in my office I’d like 
you to have a glimpse of. Just peep through the 
crack of the door.” 

The old man smiled at that suggestion, but 
started towards the door. 

“ It’s a young lady,” added Billy, with a non- 
chalance which unfortunately had a break in it. 

“Who is she?” The old man had stopped, 
and turned to Billy. 

“ I’ll tell you about her later.” 

“Tavy!” He began to tremble. “It’s 
Tavy!” and there was a vibration in the tone 
which thrilled the very roots of Billy’s hair. 

“ Now, look here, Stuart, you told me you were 
feeling fine, you know.” 

The old man straightened, and pressed his lips 
firmly together. 


THE ENEMY 


hi 


“ I am strong,” he said. “ I want to see my 
daughter ! ” 

“ Certainly! ” Billy was at his side as he 
strode to the door; Billy was holding his arm. 
“ Peep through the crack first, then come back 
and sit down a while, and I’ll take you out and in- 
troduce you.” 

The old man smiled on him, then he threw 
open the door, and walked firmly into Billy’s office. 

Octavia saw before her a spare, courtly looking 
old gentleman, whose eyes had in them such pro- 
found longing that her heart went out to him at 
once in a thrill of sympathy. 

“ Mr. Doe, Miss Stuart,” remarked Billy, feel- 
ing much as if he were playing with an uncertain 
trigger. 

Mr. Doe smiled; he bowed stiffly; he opened 
his mouth to give some conventional word of greet- 
ing, but, instead, his trembling arms suddenly 
stretched forth, and a mighty sob welled up from 
his breast! 


CHAPTER XI 


WALKING ABOUT THE SQUARE 

t4 X THAT is it? What was the matter? ” 
Octavia had been startled. She was 
pale and trembling. Billy’s partner 
had completely broken down, and Billy had as- 
sisted him into his office. He was back now, 
his mind torn by his duty to the occupants of 
both rooms. 

“ The shock was too much for him,” he ex- 
plained, groping wildly amid various bits of ro- 
mance for a fabrication which would fit the case. 
“ You reminded him so strongly of his own little 
girl. She was burned to death in a theatre fire. 
It was horrible!” and he wiped his brow. That 
was a pretty good one. “ I’m so sorry that it up- 
set you. May I get you a glass of water ? ” He 
was bending over her chair most anxiously. 

“ Don’t mind me,” she protested. “ Poor old 
Mr. Doe! ” 

“You’re trembling!” Billy was almost in a 
panic. Of course it wouldn’t do to pat her on the 



Geraldine came to the door at this inopportune moment. 



THE ENEMY 


ii3 

shoulder or anything, but she really should be 
soothed. He took her hand instinctively and 
stroked her wrist. Just think, she was Stuart’s 
daughter ! 

Geraldine came to the door at this inopportune 
moment, and she observed the wrist-stroking with 
great interest. Then she flounced back and took 
Tommy Tinkle away with her! Billy heard her 
going, and chased after her; but he was too late. 
When he returned to his office, Miss Stuart had 
discovered that it was time for her to go. She 
was still somewhat shaken, and Billy really felt 
that he should take her home in his car; but some- 
how he did not feel free to offer this accommoda- 
tion. Eight o’clock he was to call with the check 
— if he received it. 

There ensued a busy time for Billy. Tavy’s 
father, too, was shaken up, and, though in com- 
mand of himself, Billy sent him home for the day. 
Joe Mullen came, and that meant a solid three 
quarters of an hour conference. There was still 
the problem of the overload at the corner of the 
tower to be considered; but Lane got the idea for 
that while he was talking with Joe Mullen. 
Clever idea it was; but original and daring. He 
plunged into it as soon as Joe left. Fascinating 
piece of work! He had to turn on the lights 


THE ENEMY 


114 

before he was through with it, but when he fin- 
ished, he was proud of himself. It was a tre- 
mendous spur to be in business with a master like 
Harrison Stuart ! He probably never would have 
had the nerve to conceive of this solution had it 
not been for the mental influence of Hal. In a 
glow of enthusiasm, he marked on his drawing the 
instruction for his draughtsmen, so that they could 
start at it in the morning; then he made a quick 
little sketch to show when he should arrive home. 
He was immensely pleased with his day’s work! 

Six-fifteen! He’d have to hustle. He’d bet- 
ter telephone Burke to — By thunder ! He had 
forgotten that confounded dance! He stopped 
aghast, with his watch in his hand. Oh, well; 
Geraldine was a good fellow, even if she had prob- 
ably gone away in a fury. He’d explain it to her. 
Anyhow, a man had his business to attend to ! 
Business was important, and he quite overlooked 
the fact, that, besides, the daringly creative solu- 
tion of a problem like this was more fun than a 
dance. A man could dance any time. 

Too bad he couldn’t see Geraldine to-night, and 
square things, but there simply wouldn’t be time. 
He could not possibly be late at the Stuarts’ ; for it 
was more or less in the nature of a business ap- 
pointment. He had to deliver that check! 


THE ENEMY 


US 

He rushed for the decanter as soon as he 
reached his apartments, and he took two drinks in 
succession. He’d had rather an exciting day. 

“ I wish you didn’t like that stuff so well, Billy,” 
worried Stuart. “ A young man of your tempera- 
ment should choose another drink.” 

“ I don’t find the punch in the other,” was the 
laughing reply. 

“ It isn’t a punch you get out of this, sir, it’s a 
jolt.” Burke. He had been permitted to speak 
his mind freely, until now he felt the right to it. 
“ Mr. Doe and I have no use for the beast.” 

“ We have a league of our own,” and Stuart’s 
eyes followed Burke gratefully into the bathroom, 
where all further evidence of him was drowned in 
the sound of rushing water. “ Billy, for the sake 
of my own conscience, I’ll have to be serious with 
you about this question of whisky. It affects you 
too quickly, and it affects you too severely. The 
time will come when you’ll have to let it absolutely 
alone. And by that time it may be too late.” 

Lane stood looking thoughtfully down into his 
empty glass. There were a couple of drops in the 
bottom, and he twirled them slowly around and 
around. 

“ I have been hitting it up a little freely,” 
he confessed with frank self-judgment. “ I’ll 


THE ENEMY 


1 16 

have to watch it. Let me see. I was lit up night 
before last, wasn’t I ? ” His brow cleared, and he 
laughed. “That was certainly some party! We 
started in for a little game of fan-tan, and we 
ended up by serenading Sammy Langster and his 
bride. Regular country affair. We all got tea-ed 
trying to spiflicate sober Sammy in his own 
house ! ” 

“ Then last week,” gravely prompted Stuart, 
who had no smile for the hilarious serenade, even 
though he recognized the genius of Tommy Tinkle 
in the background. 

“ Last week was different.” Billy frowned, as 
he tossed his coat and vest on a chair. “ I was 
down at the Pannard Building in the rain that 
night, and I got some of Mike Dowd’s good old 
whisky. I took three drinks while I talked with 
Mike, and by the time I got up to the club I seemed 
to want more. First time I ever had that sensa- 
tion; a sort of a craving. I don’t like it.” 

The older man shuddered. 

“ Be careful, Billy,” he warned. “ That’s a 
bad symptom. If that craving is ever firmly es- 
tablished in a man, it never quite leaves him as 
long as he lives.” 

“ It can be controlled,” argued Billy, who had 
no measure of this foe because he had never, as 


THE ENEMY 


1 17 


yet, deemed it necessary to offer any particular re- 
sistance. “ Look at you. Why, you haven’t 
taken a drink since your second night here.” 

Harrison Stuart drew in his breath sharply. 

“ Do you think it has cost me nothing? ” His 
voice was suddenly harsh. “ Do you know how 
many weary hours I have fought, walking round 
and round that table? ” and he indicated the de- 
canter. “ The yellow devil in that bottle calls to 
me in the night, it drags me from sound sleep, and, 
before I am awake, I am out here with that bottle 
in my hands! I have stood there holding it for 
fifteen minutes at a time, shaking from head to 
foot, with the perspiration pouring from my brow. 
I have sat down, weak and faint and sick, from the 
agony of that fight! No, don’t put it away, 
Billy! ” and his jaws set. “ I have some safety 
in the very fact that my enemy is visible. The 
damned stuff waits for me ! It tries to take me un- 
aware ! I walk into this room. I am studying 
some problem of construction. I have no thought 
of whisky in my mind, no apparent feeling for it in 
my body. Suddenly, just as I pass, my eye catches 
the golden glint of it; and then, before I know 
it, the fight is on me again. And it is all to be 
done over, Billy; over and over. Why, look!” 
He stopped his nervous pacing, and pressed his 


1 1 8 


THE ENEMY 


hands upon his chest. “ I am Harrison Stuart ! 
I have everything in the world to live for! I 
have my work; I have my reputation to regain; I 
have my wife; I have Tavy; and I have the mem- 
ory of that horrible hell to warn me ! I know that 
one drink of the infernal liquor will set up in me a 
thirst which will not stop until I die! I have no 
strength to come back a second time. And yet, 
as I stand here this minute, I want it ! ” A piteous 
appeal rang into his voice. “ I want it! ” He 
reached out his quivering hands towards the decan- 
ter. His fingers were working convulsively, and 
over his countenance came such terrific traces of 
the bygone Bow-Wow, that Billy was horror- 
stricken! There was an agony of passionate de- 
sire in his suddenly blearing eyes, as they distended 
upon the gleaming yellow contents of the cut-glass 
bottle. He was bent and crouched, and, for a mo- 
ment, it seemed as if he were about to seize 
the bottle, and drain it to its dregs, and die! 
Billy hurriedly snatched up the decanter. The 
old man’s eyes followed it greedily, but he straight- 
ened, and, with a stern struggle of his muscles, 
regained control of himself. He was deathly 
pale, and a cold perspiration stood on his forehead. 

“ That’s what it is to crave! ” His voice was 
hollow and of inexpressible mournfulness. He 


THE ENEMY 


1 19 

shook his head. “ Hard liquor isn’t for some 
people, and I’m afraid you’re one of us.” 

Billy held out the decanter and looked at it as if 
it were some new species of bomb. He set it 
down slowly. 

“ If I thought it could ever get me like that, 
I’d never touch it again,” he pondered. “ But, 
Hal, I can’t afford to admit that there is anything 
in myself which I can not conquer and control! 
To say that I do not dare do this or that would 
weaken me in my own confidence of strength. It 
would take something from me which I could never 
replace. It would rob me of one of the big things 
which make me a man. If I need to control this 
stuff, I’ll control it; but I won’t run from it.” 

“Run, Billy!” begged Stuart. “Be a cow- 
ard! It’s the bravest thing you can do! I have 
been thinking of all this with especial keenness to- 
day. You know, I met Miss Benning in the office. 
She’s a charming girl, Billy; a delightful girl.” 

“Isn’t she?” Billy’s voice rang with enthu- 
siasm. “ The best girl in the world! ” 

The old man smiled. 

“ She likes you, Billy,” and he shook his head. 
“ Really though, speaking from the viewpoint of a 
bystander, I should be distressed to see you marry, 
with this tendency growing upon you. Very few 


120 


THE ENEMY 


hard drinkers are reformed by marriage. The 
reformation must come from within themselves, 
or not at all. I am taking this liberty because of 
my gratitude to you, because of my affection for 
you, and because I know, as few men are unhappy 
enough to know, just how tragic the consequences 
of an unconquered fight against that foe might be. 
My God, Billy, can’t you realize what it has 
brought me to ! Didn’t you find me in a condition 
lower than the brutes! Didn’t you discover my 
gentle-born family humiliated, disgraced, and liv- 
ing in poverty? Didn’t you see me, to-day, stand 
before my own daughter, and not dare to say that I 
was her father, and not dare to take her in my 
arms, not dare to call her my Tavy! And, oh, 
Billy, she’s beautiful ! Beautiful ! ” 

Here, at last, was a proposition with which Billy 
could agree, and the look of distress left his brow. 

“ Didn’t I tell you you wouldn’t believe how 
beautiful she is until you saw her? ” he enthusiasti- 
cally reminded Stuart. “ I’m going over there to- 
night.” 

“Are you?” The old man’s earnestness was 
lost in his eagerness. Billy’s reports of his visits 
to the Stuart home were what the old man lived 
on. If he could not go himself, he could go by 


THE ENEMY 121 

sympathetic proxy. “ I’ll sit up and wait for 
you.” 

“ Go to sleep,” urged Billy, beaming down at 
him in great friendliness. They were pals again 
now, conspirators together. “ I’ll waken you. 
I’ve a great excuse this time. That che,ck! ” 
They both laughed. The framing of excuses 
for Billy to call at the Stuart home had been one 
of their most elaborate pastimes. 

“ You didn’t give it to Tavy this afternoon.” 
“Certainly not!” laughed Billy in triumph. 
“ I almost cheated us out of this call, but I remem- 
bered in time. What do you think of this, Hal? ” 
and he tossed over the sketch he had brought 
home. “ By jinks, I’ll have to hustle! ” In two 
minutes more, he was heard splashing. 

So he was expected to marry Geraldine! He 
pondered this, as he deftly tied his black bow. 
What the dickens was the matter with people! 
Couldn’t a fellow have a close girl friend without 
their being hustled into matrimony about it? 
Wouldn’t Geraldine enjoy that! Why, they were 
as open with each other as Tommy and himself! 
They were all in a bunch together. People mighty 
seldom married in their school-day crowd. It was 
like marrying in one’s own family. He seized 


122 


THE ENEMY 


his brushes, and tackled his hair with impatient 
vigor. It was stubborn to-night. Tommy Tinkle 
was with Geraldine more than he, and nobody ever 
thought of marrying them ! 

“ I think I’ll go along,” said Stuart, as Billy 
joined him at the table; and there were traces 
of imps dancing in his dark grey eyes. His hair 
had been black when he was young. 

“Eh!” gasped Billy. “Oh, all right. Why 
don’t you? ” 

The imps disappeared instantly. 

“ Not for one year from the night I threw the 
glass in your fireplace,” he said; “the first night 
I saw you intoxicated. But I’m going far enough 
to look at the house, if you don’t mind. I’ve kept 
myself from that long enough.” 

He did so. He located the entrance. He had 
Billy point out the windows; and then the young 
man went into the house, and shut the door behind 
him. 

There were three windows in that room, all 
brightly lighted; but, from a near viewpoint one 
could only see the ceiling. From across the 
square, dim, old eyes could make out but little de- 
tail. At about half-past eight, a curly head ap- 
peared in a window. Tavy! She sat in a rock- 
ing chair apparently, but she did not rock much, 


THE ENEMY 


123 

except as the chair swayed with the vivacity of her 
conversation. 

A tall figure came to the window by and by. 
This was at nearly nine. Billy! He stood up, 
for quite a while, talking, and from that charac- 
teristic tilt of his head, occasionally laughing. He 
sat on the window ledge afterwards. At nine- 
fifteen there appeared a third figure at the adjoin- 
ing window; a woman’s figure, with smoothly 
drawn hair done high on her head; and the head 
was bowed slightly, but not much. Thank God, 
not much ! 

Jean! Oh, thou good and faithful Jean! 
Thou true Jean! Thou Jean that has suffered, 
and borne, and waited ! Oh, may all the blessings 
of heaven and earth be thine, thou Jean! May 
there be happiness enough, in thy days yet to come, 
to efface, in part, thy misery in the weary years 
that are gone ! Jean! Jean! 

She peered out intently into the night, as if in 
her soul she heard that passionate call. It was 
cold out there, cold and damp. 

“Why, I thought you’d gone home!” won- 
dered Billy, when he hurled himself through the 
door, at half-past ten. 

“ No, I’ve been walking about the square,” re- 
turned Stuart calmly, though he was shivering. 


124 


THE ENEMY 


There had been much pain in that lonely vigil; 
but there had been great happiness, too. He had 
seen them both this day, wife and daughter; be- 
held them with his own eyes ; and they were safe, 
safe and well! 

“ Rotten raw out here,” commented Billy, with 
an uncomfortable feeling that he had been cheat- 
ing Stuart. Somehow, he felt guilty that he was 
able to go through the door, while the man who 
had the natural right must stay outside. Young 
Lane had a most troublesome conscience. How- 
ever, he could pay part of the debt and ease part 
of his guilt. “ I’ve some great news for you! ” 
he exulted. “ You’ll be able to watch them for 
two hours and a half Thursday night. I’m going 
to take them to the theater! We’ll sit in a box, 
and I’ll get you a seat which will give you the best 
possible view. I’ve a bully pair of folding opera 
glasses! ” 


CHAPTER XII 


GERALDINE MAKES A RUN OF EIGHT 

ELLO, Billy! Glad to see you! ” and 
I I Geraldine’s voice dripped with honey. 

A Billy Lane blinked. He could not 
believe in his luck ! Why, all his worry had been 
wasted ! It was not necessary for him to square 
himself for having failed to attend Mrs. Wilton’s 
dance. It was already done. There wasn’t a 
word, not even a frown or a cold, chilling glance ! 
Wasn’t Geraldine Benning just about the best girl 
in the world ! Sweeter every day ! Or had 
Tommy fixed it? Good old Tommy! 

“ I’m glad to be seen.” Billy was as happy as 
any boy who has escaped a scolding. He shook 
Geraldine by both hands, and, drawing her arm in 
his, strolled back to the billiard-room, where he 
set up the balls for their occasional game. “ I’ll 
have to stop double discounting you, Geraldine. 
You’ve been beating me too steadily.” 

“ Single discount then,” she gaily accepted. 
“ It’s a tremendous compliment, Billy, to have you 
125 


126 


THE ENEMY 


object to the double discount.” She banked her 
ball, and laughed as it came back to the rail and 
nestled there. “ I’ve been making all the boys 
play with me, and particularly Tommy and 
Daddy.” 

“ Particularly Tommy! ” emphatically declared 
that young man, lounging in from the library. 
“ I’ve played billiards so much that I walk bent.” 

“ Get a cue, Tommy,” ordered Geraldine 
calmly. “ You have me to beat for the bank.” 

Tommy Tinkle took a cue and chalked it, and 
banked and lost, and sat in one of the high chairs. 

“ Give an account of yourself, Billy,” he sug- 
gested. “ Why didn’t you get out to Mrs. Wil- 
ton’s? I told Geraldine that the Pannard excava- 
tion fell in.” 

“ I didn’t believe you,” laughed Geraldine. 
“ You’ve fibbed for Billy so much that I’ve learned 
to double discount you.” She made her first shot 
coolly and accurately, but her thought was only 
perfunctorily with the game. 

“ It is thus that loyalty is rewarded,” sighed 
Tommy. “ No matter what I start, I get the 
worst of it. Billy, why didn’t you get to the 
dance? ” 

The culprit cast a guilty glance at Geraldine, but 
he met only the brightest and freest of smiles. By 



The careless Tommy Tinkle, watching Geraldine with the practised eye of a color 

artist, noted a fleeting change in her tint. 









Suddenly John Doe stood up. “Billy!” — in his voice was anguish — “My wife! My little girl! 

I want them!” 


THE ENEMY 


127 


jinks, she was well got up to-night! One of those 
soft, shimmering, pink, fluffy, filmy, lacy dinner 
gowns, pearls around her neck and in her gold- 
brown hair. Her eyes, too ! He had never seen 
them so snappy. It was as if there were a smol- 
dering fire in them. 

“ I’ll make a clean breast of it and take my lick- 
ing,” he offered. “ It started with Miss Stuart.” 
Geraldine missed her shot, and stood back leaning 
gracefully on her cue. 

“ I was cheated,” complained Tommy. “ Ger- 
aldine says she’s a stunnner! ” 

“ She certainly is ! ” Billy’s enthusiasm was 
boundless. He was calculating his shot with an 
absorbed gaze. The careless Tommy Tinkle, 
watching Geraldine with the practised eye of a 
color artist, noted a fleeting change in her tint. 
Curious. There was an admixture of blue in that 
fleeting change, which lasted for but an infinitesi- 
mal instant. Probably due to a slight stoppage of 
the tiny surface veins. Billy made his shot, a 
well-timed three-cushion affair. “ Miss Stuart’s 
father was a very famous engineering architect, 
and I’m having a book published for Mrs. Stuart.” 
He glanced at Geraldine, and found her eyes fixed 
wonderingly on him. She did not, however, ask 
him why he was concerning himself in the publica- 


128 


THE ENEMY 


tion of the book. Billy explained it anyhow, in 
answer to the look. “ I thought it was knowl- 
edge the profession should have.” Somehow the 
explanation seemed lame, but he let it go. He ran 
three more points while he worried over the mat- 
ter. “ Well, Miss Stuart brought up some miss- 
ing pages of manuscript yesterday, and Mr. 
Doe walked in while she was there. He went all 
to pieces ! She reminded him so much of his little 
girl. She was burned to death in a theater fire. 
It was horrible ! ” Billy caught the astonished 
eyes of Tommy Tinkle fixed upon him, and he sud- 
denly remembered that this must be startling news 
to Tommy. It confused him so much that he 
went wide of an absurdly easy “ set-up.” 

“Terrible affair!” Tommy’s tone was per- 
fectly serious, as he came over to the table, and 
his face was grave. That look of astonishment 
had only lasted for a second, and the twinkle of 
amusement which had followed was as quickly 
gone. “ I knew there must be some extremely 
tragic event in Mr. Doe’s life; but, of course, 
he would not talk of such things to me,” and as 
Geraldine stooped to pick up her handkerchief, 
Tommy stared searchingly at his friend. 

“ That is what drove Mr. Doe to drink,” fin- 
ished Billy, in his most sympathetic tones and with 


THE ENEMY 


129 


a gleam of satisfaction in his eye. The thing 
was wound up so neatly now. 

“ I see.” Geraldine’s voice, too, was sym- 
pathetic. “ Poor old Mr. Doe! I liked him so 
much. You must be very glad you brought him 
home that night.” 

“Well, rather! ” Billy lounged over by Ger- 
aldine and sat down beside her for a comfortable 
five minutes. Tommy Tinkle was one of those 
in and out players who was likely to miss ten 
times and then run up a string of fifty. Geral- 
dine’s hand lay on the arm of her chair, and Billy 
put his own over it. The hand beneath winced at 
the touch ; then it lay still and warm-. “ Doe’s a 
wonder ! He’ll make my business the biggest in 
town. I’d say our business, but he won’t have his 
name on the door. If it hadn’t been for him, I 
wouldn’t have found out what was the matter with 
the Pannard Building! I wouldn’t have gotten 
the Arts and Sciences job at all; I wouldn’t even 
have met Miss Stuart! Octavia is her name. 
They call her Tavy. Cuddly, isn’t it? ” 

The hand on the chair winced, and jerked away. 
It wavered a second, and then went up quickly to 
touch a strand of gold-brown hair. It came back 
again, and snuggled its way under the big palm. 

“ How is he connected with her? ” Geraldine 


130 


THE ENEMY 


had developed into a good listener. It was a new 
trait in her. Billy, however, caught his breath. 
He was in a muddle again, and he was the more 
confused in that Tommy, already started on one 
of his aggravating runs, waited for an answer. 

“ Well, it was Mr. Doe who suggested that if 
there was another Harrison Stuart book it should 
be published.” He breathed freely again. 
Tommy went on with his game. 

“ So that’s why you couldn’t come to the dance.” 

“ That’s why.” It was easy sailing now. All 
the lies were behind him. “ First, Mr. Doe 
nearly fainted. Then, Miss Stuart was all cut up, 
and I had to look after her. By George, she’s 
a stunning girl { Then I had to send Hal home.” 
Tommy looked up for a moment. “ Then I had 
to ’tend to all of Hal’s work and my own; and it 
was half-past six before I could get away from the 
office ! That only left me an hour and a half to 
hike home, dress, get my dinner, and meet my busi- 
ness appointment.” He laughed happily and 
patted Geraldine’s hand. 

“ I thought it must be business,” she smiled, 
and seemed very much relieved about something 
or other. “ I rather looked for you to come 
around last night, and get your scolding.” 

“ Didn’t pull away ’til half-past ten,” Billy 


THE ENEMY 


131 

bubbled on. “ I was a regular caller before I 
came away. Miss Stuart and her mother are bully 
entertainers ! ” 

The muscles on the hand under Billy’s con- 
tracted ever so slightly. Geraldine drew it away 
gently this time, and touched her hair again, and 
now she dropped her hand in her lap. A hot wave 
of hatred for the Stuart girl surged over her! 
She was herself astonished at its vehemence. 
After all, why should she hate the girl? There 
had never been anything between Billy and herself; 
nothing but close friendship; just the same as be- 
tween Tommy and herself. Nevertheless she 
hated this beautiful Octavia Stuart! Tavy! 

“ Then your business was with Mrs. Stuart? ” 

“ Yes. I had to take her down a check. I 
guess I’m the sly boy! ” and he chuckled. “ You 
know, I had that check in my pocket when Miss 
Stuart was in the office; but I wasn’t going to give 
up my chance to call ! Say, Tommy; you must see 
her. You’ll go mad over her! Won’t he, 
Geraldine? ” 

“ That’s what I told Tommy.” The voice was 
calm, and even, and sweet. “ Tommy would 
never rest until he sketched her. She might even 
arouse in him an ambition to paint — seriously.” 

“ Not with my consent,” stated Billy, with a 


THE ENEMY 


132 

laugh which by no means concealed his earnest- 
ness. “ By George, fellows, I’m crazy about her! 
You never saw such coloring, Tommy; such 
beautiful features; such variety of facial expres- 
sion; such glossy curly black hair; such wonderful 
eyes! Say, Tommy, her eyes actually change 
color all the time ! I could sit for hours and just 
watch them, as they vary with every thought. 
They have these long, curving lashes, you know.” 

“ My turn ! ” The voice of Geraldine was sud- 
denly sharp, as if she had pricked herself with a 
pin. She bent over the table and shot with such 
keen precision as she had never shown in any game. 
Her aim and her control seemed almost deadly. 
She made a run of eight, before Three-B Ben- 
ning came in, and brought with him a change of 
topic and of thought. He chatted jovially with 
them for a while, and refereed the game, and 
stayed long enough to have a drink with the boys. 
Billy sipped his whisky slowly, and with a keen 
relish. Benning watched him thoughtfully. He 
shook his head. 

“ Billy, you’re drinking too much,” he bluntly 
observed. He felt entitled to speak plainly. 
Why, he had said “ Googelly-googelly,” to the boy 
in his crib. 

Young Lane run his fingers through his hair 


THE ENEMY 


133 


in distress. He was very much worried about 
this, not because he felt in any particular danger, 
but because his friends were suddenly so concerned. 
Other fellows of his set drank, but nobody seemed 
to worry so much about them. 

“ I don’t understand it,” he puzzled. 

u You drink alone.” Benning pronounced this 
as if it were the solution of the entire difficulty. 

Billy glanced across at Tommy and Geraldine. 
They were in the midst of a warm argument over 
Miriam Hasselton; Tommy contending that she 
was clever, and Geraldine that she was shrewd. 
He walked into the library with Benning. He 
wanted to reason this thing out with him; to ex- 
plain; to reassure; and to settle, too, certain doubts 
which had been forced upon his own mind. 

Tommy Tinkle gave up his argument, and con- 
tritely acknowledged himself in the wrong, as he 
always did. 

“ Anyhow,” he observed as he chalked Geral- 
dine’s cue, “ Miriam is to be married, and why 
discuss her. So goes the world! ” This with an 
affected sadness, which was not all mockery. 
“ The crowd’s breaking up. One by one they 
all get caught, and are married and drift away 
from us. Pretty soon, Geraldine, we’ll be the 
only ones left.” For just an instant that wince 


134 


THE ENEMY 


of pain on his humorous features, and then he 
grinned cheerfully. Good old Tommy Tinkle! 
“ I guess Billy’s the next.” 

“ No! ” The voice of Geraldine was flat and 
colorless. Tommy looked at her, quickly. Had 
she flared in temper, he could not have been so im- 
pressed; not so saddened. Her face had paled, 
her lips were set, and her eyes were hard: “ I’m 
going to marry Billy myself ! ” 


CHAPTER XIII 


SPRING ! 

S PRING. Grass and flowers and weeds 
burst through the brown earth wherever 
they can find egress, and vie, in their cheery 
green, with the budding trees. As if the vital 
forces which had brought them into life and be- 
ing had stirred about its own concrete roots, the 
Pannard Building has shot up into the air like a 
huge fungoid of steel. Spring, too, has stirred 
into activity all the still dormant powers of John 
Doe. His frame is more erect, his step is more 
elastic, his cheeks have more of color, and his eyes 
have more of snap. Why not? He has worked 
like a tireless engine, and he has accomplished! 
Has he still gifts and abilities? There is a place 
to use them now. Has he the faculty to coin his 
talents into money? There is a place to spend it 
now. He had made a fortune up to middle^ge. 
He can make another in the years which are left to 
him. Billy is to be thanked for this opportunity. 
God bless Billy ! 


135 


THE ENEMY 


136 

And God help Billy. He is in need of help. 
Nothing seems to awaken him to the abyss which 
lays towards the end of his journey. Over-con- 
fidence; that is what is the matter with Billy. 
Modest enough in all other affairs, he is too sure 
of his strength in this one most important thing 
in his life. If he over-steps the bounds of pru- 
dence in his own indulgence, it is an accident. He 
is sorry ! He will watch out for it the next time ! 
But when the next time comes, it is an accident 
again. Billy, in these latter days, is remorseful, 
penitent, and ashamed, when such accidents hap- 
pen; but, with the fatal sufficiency of youth, he be- 
lieves that he can control himself, that he can stop 
before it is too late; and he will not have to call 
himself a coward, and run from the one enemy 
which can overpower him ! 

It is with these thoughts in his mind that John 
Doe pays one of his regular visits to the Pannard 
Building. It is Spring down there, too. The 
laborers, up aloft in that dizzying network of slen- 
der steel, whistle and sing at their work, as if they 
were some new variety of monster bird; and, at 
noontime, they lie down in their shirt sleeves on 
narrow ledges of steel, from which a false roll of 
an inch or two would dash them to death in the 


THE ENEMY 


137 

street below ; lie there, in the balmy air, with only 
the warm sun to protect them. 

“ Fine day, John.” Ed Black, the foreman of 
the steel construction, a square, dark fellow built 
like an ingot, and looking as solid. Every line in 
him straight ; cheeks, chin, nose, eyebrows. 

“ Beautiful. What’s the weight of that girder, 
Ed?” 

Right back with the information promptly. 

“ Looks a little light.” John Doe shakes his 
head. “ Let’s see your blue print.” 

The weight is correct as per the drawings. 
John Doe knits his shaggy white brows for a mo- 
ment. Billy’s figures. A man not quite clear for 
the moment, might easily make a mistake. It is a 
serious matter to miscalculate the weight of a gir- 
der on the tenth floor of a big structure like the 
Pannard Building. 

“ We’ll have to prove up those figures. That 
girder looks light to me.” 

“ That’s what Billy Lane said just a little while 
ago.” Perfectly serene is Ed Black. If a mis- 
take has been made, it is not his. His straight 
brows pucker a little at the corners, as he casts 
his eyes nonchalantly upward at the few fleecy 
clouds floating in the blue sky. 


138 


THE ENEMY 


“ Then I’ve wasted a trip. I didn’t know Billy 
was coming here to-day.” 

Ed Black squints down through the diagonal 
web of the nine stories below him. 

“I just now saw him going into that saloon; 
Mike Dowd’s Sink; the Chicago Buffet it is on the 
windows.” 

Mike Dowd’s Sink! How long has it been 
since John Doe has seen the inside of that place? 
Four months ! It seems an eternity. He glances 
down at himself, and he smiles. 

It is Spring even in the Sink, but the evidences 
are not freshness and brightness and gay carolling. 
They are the presence of some wilted mint in a 
glass on the back-bar, and the absence of certain 
familiar faces. Jerry-the-Limp is there, and 
Piggy Marshall and Red Whitey and Tank Ton- 
key, these four, and no more, except Mike Dowd 
himself, who stands as changeless as the years 
in his dingy apron, back of his dingy bar, on the 
alert for the dingy nickels of his dingy customers. 
Still broad of red face is Mike, and still yellow is 
the mustache which lifts when he grins. His hair 
is still plastered to his head, and fuzzed back above 
his ears; and the hands which he lays above the 
bar are still like great purple slabs of pickled meat, 
cut into fingers at the ends. All the others have 


THE ENEMY 


i39 


strayed out to wander between pleasant fields, and 
lie by night under friendly stars, and live on the 
fat of the land, without trouble and without toil. 
Theirs is the kingdom of rest, and this is the 
season of their reign ! 

“ Loan me a pipe full,” says Jerry-the-Limp. 
He is an artist, is Jerry. He is lame when he 
likes and whole when he will, and his eyes, squeezed 
up in his roughened and wrinkled old face, are 
narrowed to almost imperceptible slits, through 
the constant habit of whining for charity. 

“ Why don’t you shoot your own butts?” 
Piggy Marshall, whose name describes him ac- 
curately. Reluctantly he produces three or four 
butts of smoked cigars, picked up from the streets 
and from the floors of saloons; and one of these, 
the most frayed, the most trampled, and the mud- 
diest, he gives to Jerry-the-Limp. He drops one 
on the floor unnoticed, and is too stupid to miss it 
in the count as he restores the others to his torn 
pocket. 

Red Whitey’s little beady eyes glisten. He has 
a vermilion beard so sparse that his chalk-white 
face shows through. He moves over next to 
Piggy on the much whittled bench, and presently, 
with a vast pretence of tugging at his shoe tongue, 
he stoops down and secures the fallen butt; 


140 


THE ENEMY 


whereat Tank Tonkey, whose belt measures his 
height, gurgles a laugh. 

“ Red’s as quick with the lamps as Bow-Wow 
used to be,” he observes. 

“ Bow-Wow? Oh, yes.” Piggy Marshall. 
He always remembers Bow-Wow, after a minute 
of profound introspection. “ Bow-Wow. Un- 
humh Humh 1 ” He chuckles, without reason 
and without thought. Somehow, he always 
chuckles when Bow-Wow is mentioned. 

I wonder if they lagged Bow-Wow?” pon- 
ders Jerry-the-Limp. He is the keenest one in this 
crowd. He drinks less, and he sticks to whisky. 
It is currently believed that Jerry-the-Limp is a 
miser, and has a vast fortune hidden away some- 
where. If they could find out where, they’d kill 
Jerry-the-Limp for it. “ Did you ever hear where 
Bow-Wow went, Mike? ” 

Mike’s mustache draws down instead of lifting. 
None of this crowd were in the place the night 
Bow-Wow went away; that is, none except Piggy 
Marshall, and he doesn’t count. He can’t re- 
member consecutively. 

“ Naw,” grunts Mike. 

Piggy Marshall has an unexpected flash of re- 
membrance. 

“ He went away one night with a swell.” 


THE ENEMY 


141 

“ You’re a liar.” This from big Mike, who 
mentions the fact without passion and without 
prejudice. 

A gentleman comes in at the narrow doorway, 
a tall, dignified, elderly gentleman in well-fitting 
clothes, shoulders square, head erect, eyes clear, 
silver Vandyke trimmed as smoothly as if it had 
been poured into a mold; a very prosperous and 
well poised looking elderly gentleman, indeed. 

“Have you seen Mr. Lane recently?” No 
huskiness in that voice, no hesitation, no stammer- 
ing for connected words. 

“Billy Lane? He was here not five minutes 
ago.” 

Big Mike smiles reminiscently, but a trace of re- 
gret crosses the elder gentleman’s countenance. 
He had hoped that the name might not be so well 
known ! He walks up to the bar. 

“ A glass of Vichy, if you please.” 

While Mike Dowd produces the vichy, the stran- 
ger conquers a shuddering horror of the place, and 
turns to a calm inspection of the articles on the 
back bar; the worn-looking whisky bottle, the nev- 
er-opened quart of champagne, the bitters shaker, 
the dusty little bowl of dusty plaster of Paris fruit, 
and all the other cheap odds and ends which Mike 
Dowd has accumulated through the years. Just 


142 


THE ENEMY 


the same, every single item; not one change, ex- 
cept for a new chip in the largest wine glass. It’s 
to his shame that all these things are so familiar. 
It is to his deep shame ! 

He turns from the bar. The same barrels at 
the back of the room; the same ghastly blue ceil- 
ing and walls; the same musty odor; the same dim 
haziness, as if it were a pit of Hades in which the 
sulphur had just burned out. The very sawdust 
on the floor might be the same, for it is the old 
familiar pasty mire. As he looks the hot humilia- 
tion burns in him! Why, this is where he had 
lived ! It had been home ! Home ! That deep 
shame increases in him. It is good that he has 
come here this day. It is good that he remembers 
every loathsome object. Let him never for- 
get! 

Upon the benches sit four battered old hulks, 
no, three, for Jerry-the-Limp has now risen, and, 
with his most exaggerated lameness, is thumping 
across the floor, his face awhine. Red Whitey is 
looking mournfully at the ceiling; for Red, too, is 
an artist. With elderly gentlemen he always has 
contrition of soul! Piggy Marshall is uninter- 
ested. He only works on the sympathies of 
drunken men. Tank Tonkey’s fish-like eyes fol- 
low Jerry-the-Limp anxiously. There might be 


THE ENEMY 


M3 

drinks for the crowd, for Jerry’s guile is famous. 
All the same; everything! 

A sudden nausea seizes the stranger. He could 
call each of these frowsy, unkempt, unclean beasts 
by their names, and they would answer. These 
had been his friends ! Not one of them but is 
as good as he had been ! Their foulness had been 
his foulness! Bow-Wow! That had been his 
name in this abhorrent hole, this cess-pool filled 
with human mire! God! How could Harrison 
Stuart have sunk so low ! So far away from Jean 
and Tavy ! 

“Friend of Billy’s?” Mike Dowd. He is 
inspecting the stranger with curiosity. 

“ Very much so.” The stranger raises his glass 
to his lips and takes a contemplative sip, his mind 
filled with awe of this place, and of the unreal- 
like fact that he could ever have been a part of it. 
Jerry-the-Limp leans against the bar near by, and 
moans. He pays no attention to any one; just 
moans ! 

“Billy’s a grand boy!” This from Mike. 
“ Comes in here two or three times a week for 
some of my special. I have a barrel of the finest 
old whisky on the Bowery.” 

The stranger nods. 

“ Billy has friends everywhere,” he says with a 


i 4 4 THE ENEMY 

touch of pride. “ Does he always drink your 
special? ” 

“ Two or three slugs every trip. He drank 
what you’re drinking to-day. Are you John 
Doe?” 

The stranger glances, startled, into the eyes of 
big Mike, but he meets there only the friendly in- 
terest of a man who has heard his praises. 

“ I am.” 

“ St. Patrick ! ” That is only muttered. 
Mike Dowd leans back against his bar and gazes at 
John Doe as if he were one risen from the dead, 
and the more he gazes the more his wonder grows. 
“ Glad to meet you, Mr. Doe ! ” and Mike, re- 
covering from his paralysis, stretches forward a 
huge palm. “ Billy’s been telling me what a won- 
der you are ! ” 

Jerry-the-Limp moans and moans, his poor, 
crippled leg drawn up, his hand pressed to his side, 
his head bent, and his mouth piteously drooped. 
He is suffering intolerable agony, is Jerry-the- 
Limp ! 

“ I did not know that Billy was singing my 
praises.” This with a trace of concern. 

“ It was only by accident that it started,” re- 
turns big Mike, with an eye on his customers, and a 
monotonous evenness in his voice. “ I was in on it 


THE ENEMY 


i45 


in the beginning, you know, and after that I kept 
asking. I ain’t a bad fellow, Doe. I like to see 
people do well,” then he leans against the back 
bar for another long wondering gaze. “ St. Pat- 
rick!” 

Jerry- the-Limp suddenly stops moaning. On 
the ear of John Doe there is a peculiar little bump, 
like a small mole. On the hand of John Doe there 
is a thin white scar. On the cheek of John Doe 
just at the side of his nose and above the neatly 
cropped mustache, is a small black burn like a pow- 
der mark. The eyes of Jerry-the-Limp open in 
unison with his mouth, his poor, crippled leg 
straightens down, his head stretches forward, and, 
for a moment, he scarcely breathes. 

“ Bow-Wow ! ” 

“ You’re a liar! ” yells big Mike. Placing one 
hand on the bar he leaps over it, and by some 
miracle of quick reaching, there is a bungstarter in 
his hand when he lands ! 

Jerry-the-Limp is gone, darting out on the Bow- 
ery as swiftly, with his poor crippled leg, as any 
other man could do with two whole ones. 

Tank Tonkey and Piggy Marshall and Red 
Whitey are standing stupidly in a row, and gaping 
dazedly at the stranger, but when Mike Dowd 
looks at them they sit down in a row. 


146 


THE ENEMY 


“ Give them a drink,” and John Doe puts some 
money on the bar. He reaches out and shakes 
hands with Mike Dowd. “ Thank you,” he says 
gravely, and passes out into the Spring. 

It is Spring in Vanheuster Square. The an- 
nual blade of grass in the northeast plot has come 
up with sturdy persistence, and has been trampled 
down, and is done for the season. The dusty fir 
tree has hopefully shot new tips of green on its for- 
lorn branches, and on the topmost bough sits a lone 
robin, that cheerful optimist who predicted Spring 
through all the snow and rain and dreary fog, and 
now he is carolling his throat out in triumph that 
his prediction has at last come true. 

There are other signs of Spring in Vanheuster 
Square. In almost every window there is bedding 
out for convalescence in the balmy air and the heal- 
ing sun. But in the fourth floor windows of 
number seventy-nine there is no bedding, there are 
no curtains, there are no shades. Only bleak 
emptiness and glistening blackness ! 

“ I like the old place after all.” A beautiful 
girl with shining black curls and an oval face, and 
wonderful big dark gray eyes. 

“ You’ll like the new one better, Tavy,” smiles 
the tall young man, as they look up at the bleak 
windows. He is a handsome fellow, well set up, 


THE ENEMY 


i47 


broad shoulders, clear-eyed, and with a good nose, 
jaw and chin. There are no marks on him, as yet, 
that he has had any hurt. Those marks seldom 
come until the damage has been done; for nature 
hides her own shame as long as she can. 

“ Of course we’ll like the new one better, Billy,” 
replies Tavy, her big eyes turning up to him, and 
as they catch the blue of the sky, they too, are blue. 
“ But we were happy here, mother and I. I guess 
because we were so busy. Billy, I want to confess 
something to you. I miss our work.” 

“ Tragedy,” laughs Billy. “ Not having to 
work is the easiest thing in the world to get used 
to. Besides, there’s your music, and your French, 
and all the other things.” 

“Wonderful, isn’t it!” The long curving 
black lashes droop over the big eyes as they muse. 
“ Here were we, slaving away, but cheerful, be- 
cause mother’s bravery would make any one cheer- 
ful, when along comes this mine in which father 
held some mislaid stock, and it’s paying us remark- 
ably! Why, it gave us two thousand dollars last 
month ! Look at me ! ” 

Would any one, to say nothing of Billy Lane, 
need a second invitation to look at Tavy Stuart, as 
she nears Billy’s machine in sunshiny Vanheuster 
Square? She wears a gown which has been ex- 


I4S 


THE ENEMY 


pressly made to fit her adorable little figure; and 
such a beautiful, slender, rounded, petite figure it 
is ! The gown itself is a marvelous creation, and 
its materials and colors are selected to be exactly 
the thing which should go with oval cheeks, and a 
delicately tinted complexion, and black ringlets and 
dark luminous eyes, and Springtime ! 

Billy Lane, thus boldly invited to look, does 
look, and looks to his heart’s content; and there is 
that in his eyes which makes Tavy drop her own, 
clear and steadfast as they are, and a warm flush 
steals up into her cheeks. So she climbs into 
Billy’s car to hide it; and what should Billy do but 
follow her ! He is William Lane when he looks 
at his watch. 

“ We’ve loafed around this old square for 
nearly an hour! ” he exclaims, as he starts the run- 
about. 

“ Just because I had to find my poor little keep- 
sake gold piece,” she contritely replies. Then she 
laughs. “ But anyhow we did find it.” 

u I’ll send a carpenter up there to-morrow to re- 
pair the damage,” promises Billy. “ Suppose we 
take Mummy Stuart out the road somewhere for 
dinner? I’ve only half a dozen letters to sign at 
the office, and then I’m free.” 

So to the office they go, and find Spring even 


THE ENEMY 


149 


there; for the snub-nosed city bred office boy leans 
limply out of the window, with some wistful 
hereditary instinct for rod and line, and hook and 
worm. Back into Billy’s room; and Spring there, 
too. A little branch of apple blossoms in a drink- 
ing-glass on his desk. The letters are ready, and 
he signs them in a hurry, Tavy looking over his 
shoulder and admiring his strong, free signature. 
She is so adorable when Billy looks up that he 
drops his pen. 

“ Tavy!” 

She begins to tremble. There is something in 
Billy’s tone which tells her far more plainly than 
words that the inevitable moment has come. Billy 
is going to propose, and it is a very, very fluttering 
moment. 

“ Tavy! ” He is on his feet now. He is so 
big and so tall, so overwhelming. Tavy shrinks a 
little from him, but not far, not very far. “ I 
love you! ” Straight out like that, no stammer- 
ing, no approach, no leading to the subject at all, 
just a plain, plump outburst. He strides to her, 
one long, swift step, and the next thing she knows, 
Tavy is in his arms, both his arms! They are 
wrapped closely around her, so tightly that she can 
feel the beating of his heart. Or is it her own, 
pounding and thumping away like that? She can 


! 5 o 


THE ENEMY 


scarcely breathe. Her breath flutters, and her 
cheeks are burning. Now he is kissing her, again 
and again and again ! Her cheeks, her brow, her 
eyes, her lips, and his own are like flame. “ I 
love you ! I love you ! I love you ! ” Over and 
over he is saying that, over and over, and little 
Tavy presses limp in his arms; and when his lips 
seek hers, her lips cling, too ! 

A little space, a space in which the whirling 
worlds within them readjust themselves to their 
new spheres, in which Billy and Tavy call back 
time and place and season, and put them in their 
proper order; and then Billy, smiling down at her 
in wide-eyed wonder that all this miracle could 
have happened, kisses her once more and reminds 
her of something. 

“ You haven’t answered me.” 

She darts a happy smile at him, but there are 
little imps in her violet eyes, imps in her twinkling 
curls, imps in her fleeting dimples, imps in the curv- 
ing lips; but the lips are tightly closed, and she 
hides her face in his coat. 

“ I asked you a question, and you haven’t an- 
swered,” insists Billy with great severity. 

The flushed face reveals itself for a moment, 
but all the imps are still twinkling there, then the 
oval cheeks are hidden against his coat. 



No !” The tense strong voice is that of John Doe. “I would rather see her dead ! 





THE ENEMY 


151 

“ Will you marry me? ” 

Another flash of the dancing imps. She is tan- 
talizing, ravishing — oh, everything wonderful 
which words have not yet been invented to express ! 
But Billy is in a quandary. He ponders a long time 
as to how he shall next go about it. While he is 
still pondering, Tavy suddenly pushes back from 
him. The imps are gone! The face is sweetly 
serious, and the big eyes, steady and strong and 
clear, are dark gray now. But there is much more 
in them than color — love and truth and eternal 
fidelity ! 

“ Yes, Billy,” she gravely says. 

“ No ! ” The tense, strong voice is that of John 
Doe. He stands in the doorway, and on his face 
there is a look of such horror that Tavy shrinks 
back into the embrace of Billy’s arm, in terror at 
this wild-eyed stranger. u I would rather see her 
dead!” 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE ENCHANTED PARLOR 

I WOULD rather see her dead ! Even as his 
own words rang in his ears, the John Doe 
who had been Harrison Stuart realized, by 
the expression in his daughter’s face, that he had 
made a mistake. Perplexity, fright, even resent- 
ment; these were normal; they were to have been 
expected; but not that deathless pledge which was 
in the luminous eyes, as she turned them, for an 
instant, upon Billy! Love, truth, eternal fidelity! 
How well he knew those qualities in Jean; and 
such women are born to suffer ! 

Sickened at heart, he knew that he could not in 
any way affect Tavy, except to pain, by the state- 
ment that Billy had on him that curse which might 
render her life as wretched as her mother’s had 
been. He knew that his only way to save her was 
to reveal himself. He did not dare ! Why, only 
within this hour, he had endured a terrific battle 
with that devil of thirst, which continuously 
reached out its yellow clutch to drag him back to 
152 


THE ENEMY 


i53 

perdition, to Mike Dowd’s Sink, to the kennel, to 
Bow-Wow ! 

For a moment — an eternity in seeming, sec- 
onds in reality — his eyes lingered upon the scene, 
and it seared into his brain. The late afternoon 
sun, golden with the warm glow of Spring, had 
slanted into the little office, had touched with a 
mellow luster the soft brown graining of Billy’s 
desk, had cast a refulgence like a halo upon the 
sprig of apple blossoms in the glass, and had 
blessed, with an aureole-like radiance, Billy and 
Tavy, as they stood near the window, Tavy still 
sheltered in Billy’s arm, and broad-shouldered 
Billy turned sternly towards the intruder. Tavy! 
In her eyes was growing that same smoldering 
passion of defense, which he remembered so well 
in Jean. Tavy had taken Billy to be her own! 
Abruptly the old man turned and was gone from 
the room! Billy ran after him into the hall, but 
heard only the click of a descending elevator. 

“What was it, Billy? What did he mean?” 
Tavy’s voice was trembling. 

“ I can’t understand it. Hal and I are good 
friends. There is no reason for what he said! ” 
Billy was more hurt than angry. 

“Of course not!” The answer was prompt, 
and full of resentment. “ But why should he pre- 


154 


THE ENEMY 


sume to interfere? What right has he to even 
speak to me concerning you ! Who is he that he 
can take such liberties? ” 

“ He must be unbalanced to-day.” Billy sug- 
gested this explanation in answer to his own per- 
plexity as much as to hers. Who was John Doe? 
Tavy’s father, after all! What had Billy done 
for which he could be criticized. The only thing 
was that little matter of drinking. Hal had 
spoken to him several times about that, but surely 
he could not hold it of such importance as to wish 
his daughter dead rather than married to Billy. 

“That’s it!” Tavy’s troubled eyes both 
cleared and softened. “ Do you remember how 
strangely he acted that first day he saw me ? He 
must have loved his daughter very much.” 

“ Yes, Tavy.” Billy’s voice was very gentle 
as he drew her to him; and he was very thought- 
ful of her, and of Hal, and of many things, as 
they walked across to the desk. He looked at his 
watch, and took up the ’phone. “ Suppose we tell 
Mummy Stuart about that impromptu dinner 
party.” 

“ Oh, yes ; do ! ” All brightness now, and hap- 
piness, nothing in her voice but the joy of living. 
So soon are the tragedies of life forgotten, when 
one is young. 


THE ENEMY 


i55 


Billy asked for the new number, which was al- 
ready so familiar. Tavy stood near him, and, 
as he held the ’phone, he reached out and stole 
his arm around her slender waist. Her cheeks 
flushed as she nestled against him, but she slid her 
arm across his shoulder, and fluffed his hair. She 
had always wanted to rumple his hair. It was 
so wayward in its waviness, so stiff and uncom- 
promising. 

“ Hello, Mummy Stuart,” he called into the 
’phone. “We want you to drive out to Wood- 
briar for dinner. Will you be ready when we 
come? Tavy’s at the office with me. We found 
her gold piece. Say; we’ve something we want 
to tell you! The biggest bit of news in the 
world! We ” 

A small palm was clapped over his mouth. He 
looked up laughing, and the cheeks of Tavy were 
flaming red. He drew her hand away, and the 
playful struggle which ensued ended with Tavy 
once more in Billy’s arms, and being kissed again 
and again and again, and being told over and over 
and over how Billy loved her and loved her and 
loved her ! 

A voice, a woman’s voice, faint and far distant 
and strangely metallic, finally penetrated into their 
consciousness. It was the voice of Mrs. Stuart, 


THE ENEMY 


156 

plaintively saying “ Hello ” through the telephone 
at regular intervals. 

“ Cut off,” glibly apologized Billy, with a wink 
at Tavy and a pat of the hand which had done 
the cutting. “ We’ll be home in twenty min- 
utes.” 

Billy fully meant that, but it took five minutes 
to put on Tavy’s coat and to fasten it beneath her 
piquant chin; it took five minutes more to explain 
just how it felt when Tavy looked at him that first 
day at the door; and it took an uncountable length 
of time for them to say “ good-by,” as they left 
the little office, although no one could possibly ex- 
plain why they should need to say good-by when 
they were both leaving at once, and together, and 
bound for the same destination. Queer; wasn’t 
it? Neither of them thought of John Doe again. 

What a wonderful ride that was to the new 
Stuart apartments! The world was such a de- 
lightful place, so cheerful, and bright and happy! 
Everybody in the streets seemed gay, and in the 
very air there was a sort of limpid ecstasy, much 
as if the glory of the millennium had suddenly burst 
open the earth and made all humanity kind. How 
balmy was the breeze of Spring! How beautiful 
was the evening sky, reddening now to a glorified 
dusk ! On the river, as they whirled up the Drive, 


THE ENEMY 


i57 


were the white hulls of a hundred craft, trailing 
their wraith-like streamers of pearl gray smoke 
against the soft roseate of the west, and reflecting 
their graceful outlines in the glistening river, it- 
self aglow with dancing coral tints. It was a 
fairy land, and even those tall, prosaic smoke 
stacks on the Jersey shore were a part of the en- 
chanted scene. That is what it is to be in love, 
when one is young! Why, in all the world there 
is nothing but beauty! just beauty! 

Here is the enchanted apartment house, with 
an enchanted doorman in an enchanted marble 
lobby; and here is the enchanted elevator, run by 
an enchanted elevator boy, with twenty-four brass 
buttons on his coat, and a blue bruise, probably 
put there by enchantment, under one eye. Here 
is the enchanted suite, and here, too, is the en- 
chanted Mummy Stuart, already dressed for her 
drive in her new gray silk, which is so becoming 
to that high-piled gray coiffeur. A rather stately 
woman, is Mrs. Stuart, and one whom any fastidi- 
ous young man might well be proud to have as his 
guest at Woodbriar. Money is not such a bad 
thing after all. It cannot be altogether bad when 
it will coax the delicate tint of health to pallid 
cheeks, when it will smooth away lines of worry 
from careworn brows, when it will bring the 


THE ENEMY 


158 

sparkle of renewed anticipation to eyes which have 
been all too patient. 

“ You’re late,” accused Mummy Stuart, smiling 
on the two truants as they came bubbling into the 
pretty little parlor. “ What have you been doing 
all this time? ” 

That was so direct a question, so apropos, so 
remindful of so many things, that Billy and Tavy, 
much against their wills, looked at each other, and 
laughed aloud, and both blushed. Then Tavy 
suddenly hid her face on her mother’s shoulder. 

Mrs. Stuart paled, and glanced swiftly at Billy, 
and clasped her daughter in her arms, and 
smoothed her tight black curls. Billy Lane found 
himself left out of that tableau, which was not as 
it should be; so Mrs. Stuart, with her cheek bent 
against that curly head, suddenly felt a strong 
arm steal around her, and glanced swiftly up to 
find the clear, manly gaze of Billy beaming fondly 
down upon them both. 

“ Kiss your future son, Mummy,” invited the 
brazen Billy, with his most friendly grin, but only 
his words were flippant; tone and look were ten- 
der. Into Mrs. Stuart’s eyes had again come that 
patience, and there was moisture on her lashes; 
but she smiled to Billy. She patted his hand as 
she unwound his arm from her waist. She liked 


THE ENEMY 


i59 


Billy. She had liked him from the first, very 
much. He was the sort of young man who could 
be trusted. She walked away with Tavy into 
the adjoining room, and closed the door. Tavy 
did not look back. She was very, very quiet, and 
held closely to her mother. They had been much 
more than mother and daughter, these two, in the 
past fifteen years; they had been companions, and 
partners, and friends, very close and very dear 
friends. 

They were gone a long, long time, and before 
they returned, Billy, all alone in the dainty gray and 
pink parlor, began to feel disproportionately big, 
and brutal, and generally contemptible. It was 
all very gay and exhilarating to win a sweet and 
beautiful girl like Tavy, but, after all, there was 
a serious side to it. He couldn’t expect Mrs. 
Stuart to look on him with a happy eye. She’d 
be left alone, even if she came to live with them; as 
of course she would. Dog-gone it, he was selfish, 
and yet — Suddenly he laughed. Why, Mrs. 
Stuart would shortly be about the happiest woman 
in the world! When Harrison Stuart was quite 
sure of himself, Billy would have the extreme 
pleasure of leading that finely rehabilitated gentle- 
man to the door, and presenting him, as Billy’s 
own gift, to Tavy’s mother. He guessed that 


i6o 


THE ENEMY 


would about square accounts! He could have 
Tavy with a clear conscience. 

Again he felt a pang of selfishness. He had a 
most uncomfortable conscience. Here he was 
planning his own pleasure out of that re-union; 
here he was, bathed in the ecstatic happiness of 
having secured the most wonderful girl in the 
world for his own, and somewhere Harrison 
Stuart, Tavy’s father and Mrs. Stuart’s husband, 
was sitting by himself eating his heart out. Billy 
felt rotten ! By George, now he understood why 
Hal had made such a queer break, up in the office ! 
It was rather a hard jolt for a father who has 
spent every waking minute waiting for the time 
when he could fold his long-lost little girl in his 
arms, to find that a big hulk of a young man was 
taking her away before that joy could ever occur! 
Why, by the time Harrison Stuart came to the day 
of his glorious re-union, he wouldn’t have any little 
girl; there would be no Tavy; there would only 
be a Mrs. Billy Lane ! Of course Hal had worded 
the thing a little strongly, but no wonder ! Billy 
felt more and more rotten. He guessed he’d call 
Hal up, and he went into the vestibule to do it; 
but just then Mrs. Stuart and Tavy returned to 
the parlor, and Billy Lane, with startling sudden- 
ness, forgot all about lonely Harrison Stuart, sit- 


THE ENEMY 


161 


ting in the big chair by the fireplace, gazing mo- 
tionlessly into the dark corner, where the logs of 
winter had cast forth their ruddy glow. 

Mrs. Stuart walked straight up to Billy, and 
held out her hand, and, as he took it, she gazed 
long and searchingly into his eyes. 

“ You’ll be good to my little Tavy, always,” 
she said simply, and the young man, looking down 
at her, and feeling mean and small, somehow, be- 
cause he was robbing her of so much, gulped that 
he would; and he meant it from the bottom of his 
heart. He meant it! 

Tavy knew that he meant it, too. There she 
stood, her dark violet eyes sparkling up at him, 
and full of such supreme trust and confidence in 
him that once again Billy felt humble and awk- 
ward. Why, it was a frightening thing to be- 
come sacredly responsible for so helplessly a 
beautiful creature ! Her long lashes curved down 
over her eyes, and they glistened slightly as they 
flashed in the light. There had been moisture 
upon them. Billy was silent for some moments in 
the contemplation of the marvelous change which 
had come over his thoughts and his life. He was 
responsible for an immense amount to these two 
women, and, by George, he’d prove himself worthy 
of the responsibility ! 


162 


THE ENEMY 


“ Would you rather go out to WimboPs Inn? ” 
he asked. 

Both ladies laughed, 
him. 


It was a relief to hear 


CHAPTER XV 


A FAMILY POW-WOW 

T OMMY TINKLE, alone in his room at 
the club, was the first to receive the glori- 
ous news, and Tommy Tinkle was de- 
lighted with Billy’s good fortune. There was a 
sincere handclasp, a moment of serious and earnest 
congratulation, and then Tommy was his old cheer- 
ful self again. If he had reflected sadly that he 
was soon to lose his life-long companionship with 
Billy, he betrayed no sign of it; and if there were 
shattered dreams which Billy’s joy had brought to 
mind, there was no shadow of them to be seen 
on his broad face. His wide grin had still in it 
that familiar whimsicality, as, at Billy’s command, 
he put on his hat. 

In the tap-room were Sam Langster and Jack 
Greeves and Bert Hasselton. Billy stopped long 
enough to buy them a bottle of wine, while Tommy 
broke the news, and the boys joined thoroughly 
in Billy’s happiness, so thoroughly that he bought 
163 


1 64 THE ENEMY 

a second bottle before he and Tommy went out 
into the night. 

It was a glorious world, full of nothing but 
pleasure ! It was a world full of friends, full 
of opportunities, full of triumphs, full of bliss ! 
Possibly there were such things as tragedies, but 
those were remote and to be expressed only in 
words, like the bombastic sentiments of a school- 
boy. They were unreal, and by no means to be 
written in heart’s blood. Only happiness was real ; 
happiness and love ! 

They took a long drive in the fresh night air, 
Billy not caring particularly where they went. It 
was a beautifully clear night. The sky was white 
with stars, and a great round moon rode straight 
overhead, casting down upon the river a thousand 
glinting jewels. With brave unconsciousness, 
Billy had quite naturally chosen the Drive, since 
that led him past the Stuart apartments, where the 
enchanted doorman stood in the enchanted marble 
lobby, accepting a cigarette from the enchanted 
elevator boy. Billy did not know that the skies 
were clear, that the moon was shining, that the 
river was gleaming and dancing under the silver 
radiance. He was talking, and all the burden of 
his conversation was just Tavy! Tommy Tinkle, 
politely suppressing that whimsical grin, listened 


THE ENEMY 165 

piously, and even threw in an occasional remark 
to draw his friend on. Good old Tommy ! 

It was one o’clock when they reached the apart- 
ments, and Tommy decided to run up and say 
“ Howdy ” to Hal, if he were still awake. 

Hal! Billy’s conscience gave him a tremen- 
dous twinge. Half a dozen times, during the din- 
ner at Woodbriar, and on the way home, and on 
the way to the club to pick up Tommy, he had 
given a fleeting thought to Tavy’s father, but, for 
the most part, he had forgotten Hal. Selfish of 
him ; rotten selfish ! 

There were no lights in the big lounging-room, 
when Billy and Tommy entered, nor was there 
any fitful red glow in the wide fireplace. Silhou- 
etted against the window, however, was a bent 
figure, sitting so motionless that at first they 
thought Hal must be asleep. As the lights flashed 
up the old man turned, and his face was haggard. 

“ I’m glad you came, Tommy.” The voice was 
husky and the eyes were feverish. “ I have some- 
thing to say to Billy which I wish you to hear.” 

Lane’s head was up in an instant. 

“ If it’s in relation to what you said in the office 
this afternoon, I’d like to have Tommy hear it, 
too. Frankly, Hal, I could not understand you. 
What have I done? ” 


1 66 


THE ENEMY 


“ Asked my daughter to marry you.” 

Billy’s face flushed, but perplexity still struggled 
with his rising anger. 

“ Of course I did. I had every right to do so.” 
He turned to Tommy. u It is perhaps as well to 
tell you, Tommy, that Miss Stuart is Hal’s daugh- 
ter.” 

“ I had gathered as much.” Tommy had stood 
by the door, with his hat and gloves in his hand. 
Now he put them on the table, and sat down. He 
lit a cigarette, and prepared himself for a most 
disagreeable task. 

“ Just why should I not marry Tavy?” de- 
manded Billy. 

“ There is the reason ! ” and the old man pointed 
to the decanter on the table. “ I’d rather see her 
dead than married to a drunkard I ” 

“ See here ! ” Billy’s voice was shaking with 
anger. u You’ve gone too far with this thing, 
Stuart! I can quite understand that, because of 
your own experience, you should have an exag- 
gerated dread of whisky, but that you should 
stretch that attitude so far as to call me a drunkard 
is more than I have patience for.” 

“ Any man who neglects his business because 
he’s intoxicated, who becomes drunk time after 
time, and is surprised that it happened, and who 


THE ENEMY 


167 

still clings to whisky, is a drunkard, or bids fair 
to become one,” retorted Stuart. “ I have 
watched you day after day, Billy. You have been 
going exactly the path I went, to the last minute 
step. You have exactly the same kind and de- 
gree of craving which I had at your stage of de- 
velopment as a drinker; and there is no salvation 
for you unless you put whisky absolutely out of 
your life ! ” 

“ I’ll never do it! ” Billy’s jaws were squared 
and his lips compressed. The decanter stood near 
him. Entirely unconscious of the fact that it was 
this very thing of which they were talking, he 
poured himself a drink, and pushed the decanter 
over to Tommy. Tommy watched him curiously. 
Billy, still unaware of what he was doing, swal- 
lowed his drink. “ I shall not relinquish my con- 
trol of any factor which enters into my life,” he 
declared, as he set down his glass. 

“Then you shall never marry Tavy!” The 
old man was as steady now as Billy, and there was 
as much determination in his voice. He stood tall 
and straight, and his white face was rigid. 

“What will you do to prevent it?” There 
was insolence in that tone, the insolence of youth 
and strength, but it was excused by Billy’s thor- 
ough belief in himself and his rectitude. 


1 68 


THE ENEMY 


“ I don’t know,” returned Stuart musingly. 
“ I have been thinking of that and of nothing 
else ever since I left the office. I shall do some- 
thing, however, when the time comes. If I have 
wasted my life and theirs, I shall see that they 
run no further chance of distress. I can do that 
much at least,” and there was the light of a grow- 
ing fanaticism in his eyes. 

Billy gazed at him a moment incredulously. 

“ I hadn’t expected this of you, Stuart.” 

“ It does look like ingratitude,” admitted the 
older man. “ You brought me back from worse 
than death; you gave me a chance to be a man; 
you found my family for me; you are making it 
possible for me to ” 

“ Forget that,” interrupted Billy. “ We are 
not discussing favors nor obligations.” 

“I must!” Stuart’s voice was strained and 
tense. “ It is because I owe you so much that this 
day has brought me such pain. As I have watched 
you, Billy, I have become more and more con- 
cerned for you; but now the tragedy is so much 
greater since it affects my daughter. Billy, if 
only you were free from this one danger, I would 
gladly lay Tavy’s hand in yours, and close my eyes 
in peace. I have only one hope: to convince you 
of your position. Tommy, you know Billy well; 


THE ENEMY 


169 


you have known him all your life. You have seen 
him year after year. Tell me frankly; have you 
ever worried about his drinking? ” 

“ Yes.” Tommy glowered at Stuart. “ Billy, 
I had intended to talk with you myself, but after 
what you told me to-night, I decided that you 
wouldn’t need to talk.” 

“ That’s right, Tommy.” Billy’s pleasure in 
Tommy’s opinion was boyishly frank. “ Why, 
Stuart, I wouldn’t cause Tavy a moment’s distress 
for anything in the world ! ” His voice had sud- 
denly grown kind. “ I don’t blame you for being 
excessively afraid of the thing which destroyed 
you ; but you mustn’t let it warp your judgment.” 

“ I don’t.” Stuart shook his head sadly. 
“ I’ve seen Tommy drinking nearly as often as 
you, but I know that Tommy is in no danger. He 
will go through life just as he is now. You won’t. 
You’re one of us, one of those who dare not touch 
whisky, and the signs are as plain to my eye as 
the mark on the brow of Cain. Listen, Billy. 
You are the last man on earth against whom I 
could hold enmity or against whom I would wish 
to be unjust; but, until you have shown me that 
you are permanently stronger than this stuff, you 
must never marry Tavy ! ” 

“ That’s something we can agree on,” and 


THE ENEMY 


170 

Billy, laughing good naturedly, walked over and 
extended his hand to the old man. There was a 
tremendous appeal in Billy. He was a big, fine 
looking boy, and his smile was so contagious that 
it had smoothed all paths for him. Stuart studied 
him a moment doubtfully, then he shook hands. 

“ That’s a bargain, Billy,” he granted. 

“ Then let’s change the subject,” offered Tommy 
Tinkle, in tremendous relief. “ These family 
pow-wows drive me to drink,” and he reached out 
for the decanter. 

At day-break, the long suffering Tommy was 
sitting huddled in the big library chair, with his 
eyes half open, while in his ears was being regu- 
larly thumped, Tavy — Tavy — Tavy — Tavy ! 

There was no sleep in Billy, though. When 
Tommy Tinkle, unable to keep his ears or eyes 
open any longer, tumbled in for a good long sleep, 
Billy went to his desk and plunged into work. 
He’d have to pay stricter attention to business 
now. It meant something when a fellow was go- 
ing to be married! And he’d watch that little 
matter of drink! He had been rather careless 
of late, but his days of bachelor irresponsibility 
were over! By George, he owed it to Tavy to be- 
come a solid, substantial citizen, like Three-B 
Benning. Geraldine. His conscience rather hurt 


THE ENEMY 


171 

him about Geraldine. He hadn’t been around to 
see her for — let’s see. How long was it? He’d 
send her some roses in the morning, and, soon as 
he found time, he’d run out and tell her the glad 
news. She’d be tickled, of course. A fellow was 
mighty lucky to have a chum like Geraldine. 

At seven o’clock Billy locked away his work, 
and called Burke, and enjoyed a hearty splash and 
a healthy breakfast, and, fresh of garment and 
keen of eye, went down to the Pannard Building. 
He accomplished perfect prodigies of labor that 
morning; and, at noon, he went up on the avenue 
to buy a ring! He was so frankly delighted with 
that task, that the head of the diamond depart- 
ment came over and spent twenty minutes with 
him in selecting the jewel of the finest cutting and 
color. Then Billy, with the ring in his pocket, 
whirled gaily up to the enchanted apartment, and 
put the ring on Tavy’s finger, where it glowed and 
sparkled and flashed as a symbol of their never- 
ending happiness. 

Billy had only a minute in the enchanted apart- 
ments. He was very busy, oh, tremendously 
busy; and all four of the dainty little rooms 
seemed to vibrate and crackle and tingle from the 
verve of him. He enjoyed a laughing little ban- 
ter with Mummy Stuart, now quite proud of her 


172 


THE ENEMY 


handsome big son-in-law-to-be, and he made an 
engagement with them for the theater that night, 
and he enjoyed an ecstatic five minutes or so alone 
with Tavy, or was it ten, or maybe fifteen; then 
he rushed away, like a racing aeroplane, for a 
plunge into business again. 

At the club the aeroplane hesitated, hovered, 
then came down for a few minutes — just a brief 
little run-in, to order tickets. 


CHAPTER XVI 


A LITTLE GAIETY FOR TAVY 

T OU are like sunshine in a garden, child,” 
¥ exclaimed Mrs. Stuart, as she received 
Geraldine in the dainty pink and gray 
parlor. She had a keen love of bright color, 
which had found its expression in the gay little 
court dolls she had made down in Vanheuster 
Square, and Geraldine’s afternoon frocks always 
delighted her. 

“ I feel like a spring bonnet,” laughed Geral- 
dine, looking down at the rose silk, and once more 
deciding that its becomingness quite excused its 
brightness. She sat by the window and glanced 
out at the shimmering river. The trees along the 
Palisades were beginning to feather out, and their 
greenness to-day, for the first time, was visible 
from this distance. A trace of speculation came 
into Geraldine’s eyes. “ It’s a beautiful after- 
noon. I thought that perhaps Tavy might care 
to go for a drive.” 

“ I don’t know that she has any engagement for 
173 


174 


THE ENEMY 


the afternoon,” considered Mrs. Stuart content- 
edly. “ She can’t stay out late because we are go- 
ing to the theater this evening.” 

Geraldine’s lashes drooped for the most in- 
finitesimal flash of time. She knew quite well with 
whom they were going. 

“ I’ll bring her back at four-thirty,” she gaily 
promised. “ That will give her time for the nap 
to make her especially beautiful for the evening; 
although Tavy doesn’t need it.” 

“ That’s pretty of you.” Mrs. Stuart smiled 
with pleasure. “ However, I don’t believe Tavy 
will need it to-night.” 

Again that infinitesimal flicker of the lashes. A 
clumsy river steamer was churning down stream, 
a broad, glistening white blot on the water, and 
Geraldine watched its slow progress as interest- 
edly as if it were laden with a life-time of pleas- 
ure for her. 

“ How much stronger you are looking than 
when I first met you, Mrs. Stuart. The air seems 
wonderfully good up here.” 

“ I don’t think it’s air so much as just solid 
happiness,” returned Mrs. Stuart, and her gaze 
strayed to the huge basket of white lilacs which 
hung in the bay window. 

A little twitch in the trimly gloved wrist of 


THE ENEMY 


i75 


Geraldine, where it lay on the arm of the chair. 
She knew that type of basket. One of Billy’s 
tricks. There was an ornate box of candy on the 
table. Geraldine knew every piece in it; a Billy 
special. That particular assortment was known 
in the crowd. His imagination did not run to 
variations in candy. Billy! Billy! Billy! There 
were evidences of him everywhere ! The hand on 
the arm of the chair contracted. Up the river — 

“ Hello, Geraldine ! I didn’t know you were 
here.” Tavy; in a quaint, stiff little pompadour 
taffeta. She was beautiful; stunningly beautiful, 
with her exquisitely tinted complexion, and her 
glowing dark eyes, and her dancing black curls. 
There was a new sparkle about her to-day, a new 
vivacity. It was as if the sly little imps had 
slipped out from those glossy ringlets, and turning 
demure, had taken complete possession of her, 
glinting and glimmering everywhere, from the 
pointed toes of her little patent leather slippers, 
from . . . There was a sudden flash like crimson 
fire, as Tavy reached forward her hands in greet- 
ing, and it was then that Geraldine saw the ring; 
Billy’s ring ! 

“ How sweet you look! ” exclaimed Geraldine, 
rising to take the outstretched hands, and she kissed 
Tavy impulsively. She spoke with exaggerated 


THE ENEMY 


176 

animation, and her voice was just the slightest de- 
gree sharper and higher in pitch than usual. “ I 
want to take you for a drive. Will you come? ” 

“ Indeed I will.” Tavy’s voice is more ani- 
mated, too, but it is not a shade sharper or higher 
in tone. If anything it is softer and sweeter. A 
great happiness has come to Tavy, and it has made 
her better in every way, as happiness must, for only 
they can be happy who are made better by it. 

Tavy sat in the bay between her mother and 
Geraldine, and inspected the new rose silk with 
frank admiration. 

“ The country must be wonderful now, with all 
the trees in blossom,” she observed, but that the 
country was not strong in her mind was evidenced 
by the fact that, in spite of herself, her eyes strayed 
to the sparkling diamond on her finger. For the 
past two hours she had been practicing at not be- 
ing over-conscious of it. 

Mrs. Stuart’s eyes strayed to the ring, in spite 
of herself. It was such a beautiful stone, so clear, 
so alive with a thousand iridescences. 

Geraldine’s eyes strayed to the ring. There 
was no avoiding the thing! It filled the room! 
Its radiance blotted out the possibility of viewing 
anything else; its radiance and its illuminative 
significance! Geraldine laughed, and, reaching 


THE ENEMY 


177 

over, touched the glittering solitaire, then she 
shook her finger playfully at Tavy. 

“ Confess ! ” she demanded. 

Tavy blushed furiously. Her mother laughed 
happily. 

“ There’s no use trying to hide it, Tavy,” she 
counselled. 

“ Billy!” charged Geraldine, and Tavy shyly 
dropped her eyes; but her head nodded, and every 
one of the little black curls danced. 

“ I knew you’d take our Billy away from us,” 
chattered on Geraldine, with that queer little ac- 
centuation of pitch and tone in her voice. “ Our 
crowd will never quite forgive you, but they won’t 
blame Billy. I don’t see how he could help him- 
self.” 

“ Have some candy,” invited little Tavy de- 
murely, but the imps were dancing in her violet 
eyes. 

“ A Billy special.” Geraldine selected a con- 
fection. “ This one has cocoanut in it, and that 
one pistache, and the big square one fruit cake. 
You’re very much to be envied, Tavy. You’ll 
have exactly this assortment of candy all your 
life.” 

Tavy merely smiled. 

“ Billy always knows how to please.” If she 


THE ENEMY 


178 

had suddenly made up her mind to vary Billy’s 
candy selection, she kept that decision entirely to 
herself. 

“ Yes, he has excellent taste,” agreed Geraldine 
instantly. “ He went with father to help choose 
these sapphires for my birthday, and he added 
this little purse for his own gift. Isn’t it neat? ” 

“ Exquisite.” Tavy took the purse, and ex- 
amined it with all the appreciation which was ex- 
pected of her. “ I’ll slip on my bonnet and be 
with you in a minute.” 

“ Excuse me, please, Geraldine,” begged Mrs. 
Stuart, and with a smile of hearty friendliness, she 
trotted out after her daughter. It was such a joy 
to expend on Tavy the dainty care she had exer- 
cised in the dressing of the gay little dolls. 

So Billy had reached his goal at last ! His fev- 
ered race was run, and now he could pause to hear 
the voices by the wayside. A young man in love 
is headstrong. There is no stopping him until 
he has reached his goal. Geraldine looked out 
upon the broad river, but the current of her 
thoughts ran deeper than the stream. Three 
months she had waited for Billy to become en- 
gaged to his Octavia Stuart. Tavy! 

“ If you’re to marry Billy, you must become 
better acquainted with all his friends,” Geraldine 


THE ENEMY 


179 

chatted, as, with the primly bonneted and gowned 
Tavy by her side, she whirled up the Drive, and 
into the back road, and around the long, sweeping 
wooded curves, where the great gray castles of the 
modern barons have raised their stone turrets in 
frowning guardianship of the Hudson. “ I must 
arrange parties for you, teas for you to meet all 
the girls, and dances for the boys.” 

That was an interesting conversation, the plan- 
ning of all this brilliant incursion into social ac- 
tivity. The world seemed to have become very 
wide and beautiful since Billy had opened the 
door, and it was a flushed and excited little Tavy 
who came back to the enchanted apartments, quite 
soon after four-thirty, to take her beauty nap. 

There was no more sleep, however, in the big 
dark eyes than there had been in Billy’s the night 
before. Mrs. Stuart herself drew the blinds in 
the delf-like blue and white cretonne room, and 
covered her grown-up daughter to the chin with 
a fluffy blue and white coverlet, and tip-toed 
away; but she was called back before she had quite 
closed the door, and was hauled down on the edge 
of the bed, and was talked to most volubly for the 
full half-hour of the allotted nap time. There 
was so much to talk about, with all these gay 
parties coming on. She hoped that Billy’s friends 


i8o 


THE ENEMY 


would like her; and Mrs. Stuart smiled happily 
over that absurd trace of worry in Tavy’s tone. 

Now began the bustle and excitement of making 
ready for the theater. There was a brand new 
gown of black lace for Mummy Stuart, ordered in 
defiance of her wistful protest, and this was to be 
its very first wearing. For Tavy there was a 
pearl-white gown of soft chiffon, quite simply 
made, and needing no other adornment than the 
sloping shoulders, and the graceful neck, and the 
superbly beautiful head of Tavy herself. Such 
innocent pleasure she took in the picture of they 
two, one in black and one in white, with Billy be- 
tween them so big and strong and handsome. 

Now they had to stop and bother with dinner. 
And now they were in the full drive and flurry and 
hubbub of dressing. And now they were all 
ready, gloves in hand, full twenty minutes before 
the time, and looking at the tiny Dresden clock on 
the mantel every three minutes, and gazing down 
out of the bay window to see what machines were 
stopping at the door. 

Now it was seven-thirty, the time Billy had said 
he would call! And now it was seven-thirty-five. 
Tavy, sparkling quite enough to make up for the 
beautiful diamond she was concealing, began to 
draw on her gloves. The tiny Dresden clock was 


THE ENEMY 


181 


probably fast. Mrs. Stuart was sitting with that 
smiling patience in her eyes, her hands folded 
loosely in her lap. She already wore her gloves. 
She was very handsome indeed, in her black lace 
gown and her gray hair, and her black cloak, 
with its touches of silver lace, lying on the chair be- 
side her. 

Seven-forty-five ! Tavy was sitting perfectly 
still, with only an occasional jerky rock. Of 
course it was impossible always to be punctual to 
the minute. One shouldn’t expect it in a city 
where the traffic is so frequently blocked; and be- 
sides, there is always a defective tire to consider. 
Tires were not made for schedule purposes. 

Eight o’clock! What could be the matter! 
Billy has never been late before. Mrs. Stuart sits 
in quiet patience, but Tavy is walking the floor, 
and running to the window, and watching the clock, 
and sitting down, to keep sweet and unflurried. 

Eight-fifteen! Eight-thirty! Wild visions of 
dreadful accidents pop through Tavy’s head, one 
after another. Something terrible has surely hap- 
pened ! She sees Billy maimed and mangled in a 
dozen different ways ; she sees him hauled out from 
the wreckage of his car; she sees him lying dead on 
the pavement, unidentified; she sees everything, 
each flashing vision more terrifying than the last ! 


182 


THE ENEMY 


She is half frantic. She wants to call up the police. 
She listens for the shrill cries of newsboys in the 
street. There may have been some awful dis- 
aster! 

Nine o’clock! It is maddening to be a woman, 
and helpless, and given only the privilege of wait- 
ing! 

Nine-ten! The enchanted elevator stops with 
a click outside in the hall. Before the bell can 
ring, Tavy has hurried to the door and has swung 
it wide open, and there, at last, stands Billy, at the 
entrance to the enchanted parlor! 

Billy is not in his dress clothes. He is in a gray 
business suit, and his face is red and his hair 
tousled. His eyes are bleared and glistening, 
and there is a foolish grin on his face. 

“ Guess I’m a little late,” mumbles Billy with 
hearty good-fellowship, but with a thick tongue. 
“ Broke away at last, and I’m here.” 

The silence in the poor little enchanted pink 
and gray parlor is appalling! Tavy stands some 
distance back from the door, stiff and motionless, 
her big eyes staring, and every trace of the delicate 
tinting gone from her delicate cheeks. There is a 
moan and a sob from Mrs. Stuart, as she realizes 
the truth. Billy is drunk! 



Guess I’m a little late,” mumbles Billy. There is a moan and a sob from Mrs. Stuart as 

she realizes the truth. Billy is drunk! 
























































































' 


















































CHAPTER XVII 


TAVY IS TO BLAME 

T HE blackness of despair never settled 
down on any woman with more deaden- 
ing and crushing weight than it did on 
Jean Stuart. Once more this ghastly spectre of 
drunkenness had stalked into her life! In that 
moment, all the health and strength and happiness 
which had gradually come to her since the day 
when Billy knocked at their door in Vanheuster 
Square, were swept away, and left her weak, bitter, 
and ashen-gray of cheek and lip. For that mo- 
ment she sat stunned, then had come the moan. 
Billy, stopped on the threshold by some dawning 
sense that the good-fellowship of his relations in 
the enchanted parlor had been disturbed, now felt 
that it was time for him to step forward and make 
things right, but that movement brought Jean 
Stuart to activity. She sprang from her chair 
and advanced to meet him, and there was that 
horror in her distended eyes which startled even 
183 


THE ENEMY 


184 

the fuddled Billy, grinning ingratiatingly though 
he was, into sudden seriousness. 

She wasted no words on him. She put her hand 
upon his arm, and pushed him towards the door. 
There was no physical force in her touch, only the 
tense will behind it; and Billy, stricken into mum- 
bling confusion, swayed out. The door closed on 
him. Swiftly Jean Stuart turned to the still star- 
ing Tavy, and held out her hand. The girl, lost 
in stupefaction, did not comprehend, and her 
mother caught hold of the ring. For an instant 
the finger automatically closed and stiffened, then 
she relaxed it to limpness. Jean drew off the ring. 
She hurried outside. Billy still stood there, 
numbly trying to frame within himself some way 
out of this unexpected check to his happiness. He 
tried to say something, but Tavy’s mother thrust 
the ring in his hand, and hurrying inside the door, 
closed and locked it. 

Billy Lane gazed down at the ring in sodden 
wretchedness, and suddenly, out of the depths 
of his misery, came sobriety! It seemed unbe- 
lievable, this hideous thing which had happened 
to him ! He slowly recalled the steps by which he 
had arrived at this disaster. He had not been so 
far gone that he could not remember. He had 
dropped in at the club for just a minute to order 


THE ENEMY 


185 

his tickets for the theater. Sam Langster had 
been there, Jack Reeves, Bert Hasselton. They 
had spread the news throughout the club that Billy 
Lane was engaged. They had thronged around 
him with congratulations. 

Billy was very popular. Everybody liked Billy, 
because of his exuberance, his buoyant enthusiasm, 
his unfailing good-fellowship. They had wished 
him well ! They had wished him a long life and a 
merry one ; they had drunk to his eternal happiness. 
More of the fellows had come, shoals of them. 
Billy had never been so happy in his life. This 
was the greatest day in all his years ! He had 
secured, to be his wife, the best, and the sweetest, 
and the most beautiful girl in all the world, the girl 
whom he meant to shield and protect from every 
pain, from every sorrow, from every harsh wind, 
so long as their lives should last ! All day he had 
been in a state of exaltation which in itself was 
akin to intoxication, and now that exaltation had 
been raised to its enth degree by all his effervescent 
friends. Only Tommy Tinkle had been absent, 
and Billy had waited for him, just a few minutes, 
and had drunk again and again in response to all 
those friendly toasts. He had not for one min- 
ute forgotten that he had an engagement with the 
Stuarts ! He had finally torn himself away from 


1 86 


THE ENEMY 


the jolly company, though not without some rude- 
ness, and, when he was outside in the air, he had 
congratulated himself aloud on having gotten away. 
He must be a little late. There’d probably be no 
time to dress. He had looked at his watch, sway- 
ing with blinking eyes. It had been difficult for 
him to properly focus his gaze. His watch 
couldn’t be right! He had stumbled into his car; 
and here he was, with the ring in his hand, Tavy’s 
ring, and the door closed against him, and, inside, 
some one sobbing! He rang the bell; he knocked 
on the door; but no one came! 

Yes, some one was sobbing. It was Tavy! 
She was young. She could still sob, she could still 
shed tears, she could still bury her head upon a lov- 
ing shoulder and find comfort there. 

For a long, long time, Jean Stuart sat on the 
couch and held her daughter in her arms, held her 
there until after she heard the shuffling footsteps 
in the hall move away, and the elevator stop, and 
shoot downward; held her there until the mist of 
the night came in chill at the open window. She 
felt the chill upon her flesh, but it was nothing to 
the icy clutch which had fastened upon her heart ! 

She kissed the tear-stained face, at last, and rose, 
quietly, firmly, steadily. She helped Tavy to her 
feet, and, with an arm around her, drew her to- 


THE ENEMY 


187 

ward the dainty little delf and white room. There 
were the pretty dresses to take off, and all the 
pretty finery to put away, and many, many things 
to lock, far, far from sight, in the hidden re- 
cesses of a heart which was already crowded with 
the useless lumber of broken hopes and shattered 
dreams. 

But what of Tavy? From her stupefaction 
she had awakened to a frantic sense of humilia- 
tion. How could Billy have put this shame upon 
her! He had covered her with disgrace before 
her mother, before herself, before him! It had 
been much as if her fresh and pretty gown of deli- 
cate chiffon had been suddenly drenched in a 
muddy stream. That blow to her pride was one 
from which she would never quite recover. That 
first disillusionment had taken from her forever 
some of her delicacy, it had thrust her rudely 
into the most loathsome sordidness of life, and 
she would never again have quite her same de- 
gree of self-respect. How could he have done 
this thing to her! She would never forget that 
brutish distortion of his face, that swinish animal 
which had stood swaying before her in so gross a 
caricature of Billy! How dared he! Resent- 
ment rose fast in her and became anger. She was 
furious with him! She loathed him! She de- 


1 8 8 


THE ENEMY 


spised herself for ever having turned to one of 
such beastial capabilities a pure and worshipful 
adoration! Why, she had looked upon him as 
some wondrous being only one step lower than 
the archangels, a perfect and flawless creature of 
splendid grandeur! She laughed bitterly. How 
foolish she had been not to have seen through 
him to this creature of base clay! It had not 
seemed possible that there could be anything but 
good in him. Oh, why had he destroyed her 
ideals ! Why! She had been so happy, so proud 
in his love, and in her own! It had seemed so 
wonderful to nestle there in his arms, in that quiet 
moment after their first transports, and look for- 
ward into the heaven of the future to where they 
two should walk, constantly side by side, toward a 
rosy sunset of perfect peace and happiness; and 
now it was gone, all, all gone, and there remained 
nothing but blackness ! 

It was then that the pent-up misery broke within 
her, and the tears welled up to her eyes and the 
sobs to her throat, and she felt about her the com- 
forting arms of the mother who had not found any 
word, amid all the bitterness of her crushed heart, 
to speak her own mortal hurt or give one crumb 
of comfort. 

Amid that storm of distress there came the in- 


THE ENEMY 


189 

sistently recurring question in Tavy’s mind; why, 
oh, why? How could this disaster have fallen on 
her! What had she done to deserve it? Why 
could not Billy have escaped this terrible deed? 
She could scarcely believe now that he had 
done it. It was all so unreal. It was not like 
him ! There must have been some cause, for Billy 
would never have done this of his own volition. 
No sane human being could will himself to de- 
scend to this hideous fall from his god-head. Per- 
haps he had been ill. That must be it! There 
could be no other explanation, unless she chose 
to think of Billy as one of deliberately besotted 
tendencies, who preferred to sink himself in glut- 
tony. That thought was absurd. Billy had never 
voluntarily put himself in this condition, and if it 
had come upon him involuntarily, he was more to 
be pitied than blamed. 

That was a startling thought! One which 
dried her tears and stopped her sobs. If Billy 
had been unfortunate, if this affliction had been 
brought upon him against his will, he had needed 
her sympathy, her comfort, even her aid. And 
what had she done ! She had let him go without a 
protest, she, who had sworn herself to him, as 
sincerely and as whole-heartedly and as sacredly 
as she would upon the day when they would kneel 


190 


THE ENEMY 


at the altar and ask the blessing of God upon 
their union! She had stood supinely, and allowed 
to be removed from her finger the symbol by which 
she had bound herself to him, in love, and truth, 
and eternal fidelity! In his hour of direst need, 
she had been traitorous to Billy; and now she 
heaped self-reproach after self-reproach upon her 
own head. She did not blame her mother. She 
was just in this new agony. Her mother’s in- 
stinct of protection, that same instinct which had 
shielded Tavy so tenderly, and yet so vigorously, 
through all these years, had led her to guard her 
daughter promptly and decisively from this new 
menace ; but her mother had not known. She, like 
Tavy, had been stunned by this unexpected ap- 
parition of poor Billy. The only guilty one was 
Tavy! She had permitted the ring to be taken 
from her finger. She had allowed Billy, her Billy, 
whom she loved with all her heart and with all her 
life, to be sent away alone, into the night — 
Where? 

“Mother, I’ve been wrong! I want Billy! 
We must find him! ” 

Jean Stuart looked at her daughter pityingly. 
She had held her tongue through all this time, 
knowing, out of the ashes of her own buried past, 
that Tavy must fight this first battle by herself. 


THE ENEMY 


I 9 I 

Silently she had followed, step by step, through all 
the mazes of Tavy’s reasoning and her emotion, 
and she had been prepared, for the heart of Tavy 
had been her heart, for this conclusion. 

“ I hope you may never see him again,” she 
said. They had silently been putting away their 
piteously wasted fineries, but now she drew Tavy 
into a chair and sat before her. “ Tavy dear, the 
time has come when I must myself deal you a blow 
which I had hoped always to spare you. If I 
did not know what I know, I would say, too, that 
we should find Billy, and take care of him, and 
save him from ever again falling a victim to that 
loathsome disease which gripped him to-night; but 
no young man who could, under any circumstances, 
arrive at the state in which Billy presented himself 
here, is worth the appalling danger of saving. 
He is not worth the absolute sacrifice of any 
beautiful young girl’s entire life.” 

Tavy half rose. She made a move as if to 
speak, but her mother silenced her with a gesture. 
Jean Stuart’s face had lost every trace of its health- 
ful hue, and there was a greenish cast beneath 
its gray. Bitter lines, erased by fifteen years of 
patient sweetness, had sprung out of their old hid- 
ing-places around her nose and mouth, and into her 
eyes had come that spiritual deadness which fol- 


192 


THE ENEMY 


lows the ruthless mangling and crushing of the 
soul. It was a face the commands of which were 
carried out by awe; and Tavy sat back in her 
chair, with a vague horror of something worse to 
come creeping into her mind. 

“ Tavy dear, I am going to destroy, because 
I must, a pride which I have fostered in you for 
fifteen years. I am going to destroy the noblest 
ideal of your life, up to this time. I am going to 
strip the veil of hero worship from the name you 
most revere. I am going to tell you the story 
of a drunkard. I do not know if he is living or 
dead, but I loved him as you love Billy, and I shall 
still love him when I die; and that drunkard was 
Harrison Stuart, your father 1 ” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


GERALDINE, THE COMFORTER 

T HE round moon slipped down out of the 
sky and sank behind the Jersey hills, and 
with its disappearance came blackness, ex- 
cept for that faint, vague trace of glow in the west- 
ern horizon. Up from the sleeping city there 
came now the plodding and the rumble of the very 
earliest stirring of drowsy life; huge, dim wagons 
drawn by stolid thick-necked, heavy-rumped, big- 
footed horses; a lonely elevated train rattled and 
clattered in the distance with sharp clearness, and 
presently another, the intervals between them 
growing less as the darkness deepened. A far-off 
clock chimed the hour, a policeman’s shrill whistle, 
the sound of running feet, silence again; then long, 
slow, dragging minutes. In the east a faint radi- 
ance began to appear, not a streak of light, but a 
lesser blackness, and with its coming, the bent fig- 
ure in the window straightened and sighed. The 
standing figure, at the window in the other end of 
the lounging-room, moved. 

193 


194 


THE ENEMY 


“ Hadn’t you better go to bed, sir? ” Burke, 
extraordinary tall and spectrelike in his heavy 
striped robe. 

“ No, I think not.” John Doe, his voice quiet, 
full of patience. “ The nights are still a little 
chilly, Burke.” 

“ Yes, sir.” The hint was enough. Burke 
touched a match to the paper and kindlings in the 
big fireplace, and, as the flames leaped up, the first 
light since midnight came into the big lounging- 
room, and revealed the old man as still dressed, 
from pumps to white tie, just as he had been when 
he came in from the theater. It had been a very 
dull show, and the folding opera glasses still lay 
on the table. They had not been used. Box A 
had been empty! 

Burke looked at his watch, then he went into the 
pantry. Presently he came back with a tray, and 
stopped at the mantel. He set up a glass of the 
green liquid, and stood and looked at it a moment, 
then he crossed to John Doe with his tray. 

“ I thought you might like a cup of hot coffee, 
sir.” 

u Thank you.” The old man drew a tabou- 
rette beside him, but his eyes were fixed on the 
glass of green liquid on the mantel. Neither of 
them said anything more. Burke set the tray on 


THE ENEMY 


i95 

the tabourette, and went back to his post at the 
window in the far end of the room, leaning, in tall 
ease, against the casing, and gazing somberly 
down into the street, with its long perspective of 
lonely lights. 

The dawn was advancing now; there was a dull 
red streak in the east, almost sullen in its heavi- 
ness; there was a mist in the air. It would be a 
gloomy day. John Doe sipped at his coffee in 
silence. 

There was the click of a key in the latch. 
Burke straightened instantly and turned. John 
Doe set down his coffee. The door swung open, 
and Billy stood, for a moment, framed against 
the dim light of the hall. His hair was matted 
upon his forehead with the dampness of the night, 
his cravat was awry, his face was haggard, but his 
eyes, though there was a hollowness about them, 
were clear and steady, and his mouth was firm. 
He swayed as he stepped into the room and closed 
the door behind him, but it was from weariness. 

He walked across to the table, and, as Burke 
strode forward to meet him, he handed over his 
hat and gloves, and let Burke divest him of his 
top-coat. 

“ You haven’t been sitting up all night, Hal? ” 
His voice was husky, and there was a deadness in 


THE ENEMY 


196 

it which fitted with the deadness of his eyes. He 
reached for a cigarette. The decanter was in 
front of the matches, and he moved it to one 
side. 

“ Yes, I couldn’t sleep. I turned out the lights 
and went into the bedroom, but I came back.” 
He had risen from his chair, and stood gazing 
at Billy in wonder, a half light of joyous hope in 
his face. “ You didn’t go to the theater.” 

“ No,” and a spasm of pain crossed Billy’s 
features, as the sudden realization smote him that 
he had forced a night of misery on Hal, as well as 
on Hal’s wife and daughter. He lit his cigarette 
and glanced at Burke. That handy man, broadly 
delighted, took his glass of green liquid from the 
mantel, and left the room with a light footstep, 
every tousled red hair on his head alive with his 
gratification. Billy was sober; cold sober! 

Billy rose, and walked slowly over to the mantel 
and leaned upon it, staring down into the fire, the 
old man studying him in anxious silence. 

“ It’s all off, Hal,” he said, in the even, dead 
tone which had come out of his night of miserable 
wandering. His hand hung limply by his side. 
“ I went up to the house to-night — drunk! ” 

“Billy!” 

The hand closed stiffly, and then it opened again. 


THE ENEMY 


197 


He compressed his lips and compelled himself to 
steadiness. There had been no reproach in the 
old man’s voice. Billy had been prepared for re- 
proach, prepared to accept it for his just due; but 
he had not been prepared for that tone of pity. 

“ I went up there after nine o’clock,” he went 
numbly on. “ I stood in the doorway, drunk. 
They were all dressed for the theater. Tavy’s 
mother gave me back the ring; then she closed the 
door.” 

“ Jean! Jean! ” The cry burst from the old 
man’s lips as if he had been seared by sudden 
fire. Again Jean had met her grizzly enemy face 
to face, again she had been pursued and tortured 
by that ghastly demon which had wrecked and 
embittered her life ! His whole thought, in that 
first realization of the picture, was for her. Then 
for Tavy, his little Tavy, with the big glowing 
eyes and the glossy black curls. Even to her this 
hideous monster must show its loathsome face ! 

“ She was dressed in white, pure white,” went 
on Billy, in that monotonously inflexible voice; 
“ just soft and clinging white, with no adornment 
around her beautiful white neck. I had selected a 
string of pearls which I had intended to give 
her for a wedding present.” Again he closed and 
opened the hand which hung at his side. “ Her 


198 THE ENEMY 

black curls were caught in with a band of lilies of 
the valley.” 

“And Jean?” Even now Hal dwelt with 
eager hunger on the visualization of her, on any- 
thing which would bring a new picture of her to his 
mind. 

“ All in black, Hal. She was very beauti- 
ful.” 

There was a long, long silence between them, 
then, with a sigh, Billy went into his own room. 

There were days like this, days of numb suf- 
fering, in which neither man talked much. The 
blight which had fallen upon them all was too 
big and too devastating for words to ease. Billy 
rose early, and worked hard, and spent his nights 
at home with Hal and Tommy; silent evenings 
given over to fits of brooding and to stolid appli- 
cation. Hal was revising the proofs on the new 
book, and Billy brought home, each night, some 
drawing on which he could toil when the moment 
came in which he must not think. Tommy, vot- 
ing them both deadly bores, merely sat, the most of 
the time. Billy had made no attempt to see Tavy, 
he had made no effort at futile apology, he had 
written no despairing letters to be returned, and, 
day by day, dull despondency settled upon him, 
until the need of comfort, more than Tommy could 


THE ENEMY 


199 

give, became desperately imperative. It was then 
that he went to see Geraldine. 

What a blessing it was to have a good, steadfast 
friend like Geraldine ! She greeted Billy with all 
the old gaiety, and all the old, frank fondness, and 
she listened in sympathetic patience to his tale of 
abject misery. When he had finished, she 
laughed; and he had not seen in her eyes, nor did 
he see now the glitter of her satisfaction and the 
dreaminess of her speculation. He could not di- 
vine how eagerly she had waited for this moment, 
longed for the opening. She had known positively 
that it would come ! 

“ It isn’t a tragedy, Billy,” she heartily assured 
him. “ Tavy’s too sweet a girl to hold out against 
you for so slight an offense.” 

“Slight!” Billy was horrified. “Why, I 
don’t believe you realize yet, Geraldine, what I 
did!” 

“ Why not? You did the same thing here.” 

Billy knotted his brows. It was the same, 
wasn’t it? Exactly. Only somehow it seemed 
vastly different. Not being able to express the 
difference, he gave it up. 

“ You don’t know the circumstances,” he so- 
berly told her. “ There are reasons why Mrs. 
Stuart will never forgive me.” 


200 


THE ENEMY 


“ Yes, she will,” and Geraldine’s voice was most 
soothing. “ Besides, Tavy is the one to be con- 
sidered. If she cares as much for you as she 
should she’ll send for you one of these days.” 

“ Do you think so! ” There was such intense 
eagerness in his voice that Geraldine, with diffi- 
culty, repressed a frown. 

“ Certainly,” she replied promptly. “ If she 
doesn’t, Billy, she isn’t worth breaking your heart 
over. And, if she doesn’t, you can come right 
back to your old friends. We’ll stick by you no 
matter what you do. Do you remember how 
quickly we forgave you after the morning you and 
Tommy wanted me to breakfast at old Chris- 
tian’s? ” She laughed lightly, and then, with sud- 
den seriousness, she leaned forward. They were 
sitting in the conservatory, with a big green palm 
spreading back of her, just where one of the fan- 
like leaves made a crown for her hair of golden 
brown. “ My conscience has always hurt me 
about that morning, Billy. I was very wrong to 
have sent you away. I should have had you stay 
to breakfast. I was bad ! ” 

She was very lovely as she lifted her soft eyes 
to his. There was a pretty flush on her smooth, 
round cheeks, and her hand, as she laid it upon his 


THE ENEMY 


201 


in her earnestness, was tender and warm. He 
caught it, and held it in gratitude. 

“ You were a brick, Geraldine! ” and he drew 
her arm within his own as he sat on the bench 
beside her. “ I never blamed you for turning me 
loose that way. I’m not fit for any nice girl. I’m 
a worm ! ” 

“You’re no such thing!” she indignantly de- 
nied. “You’re a dear old Billy; and, while I 
don’t like to criticize Tavy, I do really think she 
was as bad as I. She should have taken you in 
that night, and helped you, and given you a good 
scolding, and made you promise to behave. Why, 
goodness, Billy, every live young man passes 
through that stage ! Tavy has no right to make a 
world-without-end tragedy of it! ” 

She touched the wrong chord there, for Billy 
broke loose again. Tavy was the most wonderful 
creature in the world, the most adorable, the most 
desirable; and, for a solid half hour, Geraldine 
was compelled to listen to a minute dissection of 
Tavy’s charms, and abilities, and sweetness, and 
general, all-round super-perfection. It would 
have been monotonous to almost any one, but Ger- 
aldine stood it with exceptional fortitude, and she 
wound up her trial as sweetly as she had begun. 


202 


THE ENEMY 


“You poor Billy!” she sympathized. “I 
won’t have you miserable like this. I’ll see Tavy 
to-morrow afternoon, and, if you’ll come here for 
dinner, I’ll tell you all about it.” 

“ You’re a good fellow, Geraldine! ” and there 
was a gulp in Billy’s voice, as he patted her plump 
hand. “ You bet I’ll be here to dinner ! ” 


CHAPTER XIX 


TAVY TAKES A MUSIC LESSON 

G eraldine benning, mauve to-day 

from bonnet to slippers, was gushingly de- 
lighted to see her dear friend Tavy, and 
she said so with many little nods of the mauve 
plumes. 

“ And, frankly, I’ve brought you out here in the 
park to scold you,” she concluded, turning slowly 
into the beautiful curves of the West Drive. 

Tavy smiled wistfully, which was easy to do, 
since there was so much wistfulness in the big dark 
gray eyes. 

“ I don’t mind. It will be rather a novelty. 
What is the scolding to be about? ” 

“ Billy,” and Geraldine cast a quick little side- 
long glance to see the effect of the simple word. 
What she saw made the tips of the mauve plumes 
jerk, for there was an instant piteous twitch at 
the corner of the exquisitely curved lips, and the 
big dark eyes contracted sharply. They glistened 
as if with moisture. 


203 


204 


THE ENEMY 


“ You know, then.” No concealment in the 
voice, no attempt to hide that there had been bit- 
ter suffering; and no parade of it. The mauve 
plumes jerked again. 

“ Of course.” A contented little laugh. 
“ Dear old Billy came straight to me. He’s been 
telling me his troubles ever since we were kiddies 
together.” If that bit of information had been in- 
tended to bring another twitch to the lips of Tavy, 
it was two-edged; for Geraldine herself winced 
somewhat in the telling. “ He’s dreadfully un- 
happy.” 

“ We all are,” acknowledged Tavy. “ I don’t 
think mother will ever quite get over it.” 

“Why not?” The tone of Geraldine was 
sharp. “ One: would think Billy had committed 
some terrible crime, in place of merely having had 
an accident. He’s a good Billy, and I consider 
that he’s been abused.” 

That was better. A little flush crept into the 
cheeks of Tavy, and the dark eyes began to glow. 
It was not unpleasant to hear Billy defended, in 
fact, he needed defense; but it was Tavy who 
should be doing it, not the girl to whom he had run 
with all his troubles. 

“ I am sure that Billy does not believe that he 
was abused.” 


THE ENEMY 


205 


The plumes nodded, as if they laughed. u Not 
Billy. He blames himself for everything. He 
was contrite in just the same way, after he came 
to our house one time in the same condition. Of 
course I was furious, but I forgave him two days 
afterwards. I don’t think an unfortunate weak- 
ness like that should be held against any one.” 

Tavy was thoughtful, too thoughtful to answer, 
too thoughtful to enjoy, or even to notice, the ten- 
der green leaves which waved down upon the shin- 
ing little coupe; and she smoothed and smoothed 
at the seam in her mouse-colored frock, the color 
of which brought out her pallor and her wistful- 
ness and her pathos, qualities over which the 
mauve plumes nodded with savage little bobs. So 
this was not the first time for Billy. Could it be 
possible that Tavy’s mother was right, that Billy 
was one of those who are doomed to bear this 
curse through life; and she shuddered as she 
thought of the pitiful revelation concerning her 
father. Tavy had seen with her own eyes what 
this weakness had done to the Stuart family, and 
it was far too serious a matter for light talk. She 
stole a look at the healthy cheeks, the scarlet lips 
and the clear brow of Geraldine. What could 
this girl know of sorrow or tragedy; what could 
she know of deep heart hurt? She was Billy’s 


20 6 


THE ENEMY 


friend, the one to whom he went with all his 
troubles, ever since they were kiddies together! 
Tavy’s lips compressed, as she stifled something in 
her which jumped and hurt. 

“ People like Billy need sympathy,” went on 
Geraldine, as soon as she saw that compression 
of the lips, and she studied little Tavy, from black 
curls to gray slippers, with curious satisfaction. 
“ His friends love him in spite of his affliction. 
They know that the poor boy is likely to have that 
happen to him at any time, but there is so much 
good in him that he simply must be forgiven.” 

Very still sat Tavy, smoothing and smoothing 
at the seam of the little gray frock with her tiny 
thumb. So, all Billy’s friends knew of his weak- 
ness, and that it was chronic, and that it was likely 
to occur again and again, and that he must be for- 
given and forgiven, and that after each forgive- 
ness he was likely to come to the door, at the most 
unexpected times, with that something in him 
which was not Billy, leering its red leer and snarl- 
ing its red snarl out of a cruelly distorted and dis- 
ennobled countenance. Could Tavy’s mother ever 
endure that again? Why, for years before Tavy 
had come into the world, and after, Jean Stuart 
had lived in the hourly dread that this awful thing 


THE ENEMY 


207 

was to happen again. She never saw her husband 
leave the house that she did not live in an agony 
of fear until she looked in his eyes and saw them 
clean. No, it must never happen again, never! 
Deeper and deeper Tavy buried her heart beneath 
the ashes of her once joyous hopes, and the mouse- 
gray of her gown crept up and blended with the 
delicate tint of her cheeks and obliterated it; while 
the gay mauve plumes nodded and nodded. Oh ! 
Geraldine was talking again. What was she say- 
ing? 

“ So I’ll just bring Billy up some evening, and 
pop him in at the door.” 

Tavy’s heart gave a leap. It was not yet deeply 
enough buried; so brave little Tavy compressed 
her lips, and heaped more ashes upon it, more and 
more, working quite frantically, as if in terror that 
it might burst through the ashes before she had 
heaped on enough. To have Billy pop through 
the door ! It was a startling thought, and no won- 
der her heart had leaped. She could see him 
standing there, not as he had stood on that awful 
night, but big and handsome, strong and yet ten- 
der, with the love light in his eyes, and — more 
ashes, little Tavy, more ashes, quickly. The lips 
compressed, and the little hand which had been 


208 


THE ENEMY 


smoothing the mouse-colored seam, fluttered up 
and pressed upon the bosom for an instant; and the 
mauve plumes nodded and bobbed. 

“ Grand tableau,” Geraldine rattled on, “ Billy 
pops in, I pop out, tears, reconciliation, the fatted 
calf. He’ll be at our house for dinner to-night. 
I’ll bring him up.” 

“ No.” All buried now, buried away down 
deep, and the voice was even and firm. What 
wonderful patience and capacity for suffering had 
these women of Jean Stuart’s strain ! It was bred 
in them ; they had need of it, God help them ! 

“ Some other night then,” Geraldine cheerfully 
urged. “ You’re bound to have him sooner or 
later, because Billy is irresistible; and the Billy 
habit grows on one. I couldn’t do without Billy 
if I wanted to.” The mauve plumes should have 
been clipped. “ Well, wait until some night next 
week.” 

“ Please don’t, Geraldine.” Because Tavy’s 
heart was buried was no reason why her suscep- 
tibility to pain should be gone, and in her voice 
was a piteous intonation, which anything but a 
mauve plume- would have respected. “ You 
mustn’t think of it. I know you mean well, but 
Billy can’t come.” 

“ I’m so sorry! ” cooed Geraldine. “ Billy will 


THE ENEMY 


209 

be broken-hearted when I tell him to-night that his 
good Samaritan failed.” 

Thereupon Billy’s good Samaritan dropped the 
entire subject, and chatted away about frills and 
furbelows, and dances and theaters, and all such 
agreeable topics, until it came time to take Tavy 
home, with a splitting headache. 

At dinner time, the mauve plumes tucked away 
with Geraldine’s other familiars, Billy’s good Sa- 
maritan appeared before him radiant with sym- 
pathy, if such a thing could be, and cheerful with 
condolence. To relieve her ill tidings from any 
trace of sombreness, she had arrayed herself most 
thoughtfully in a shimmering dinner-gown of 
canary, which turned the golden brown of her hair 
to burnished copper. An airy butterfly of black 
gauze peeped its spreading wings from behind 
her shoulders, and its foolish long black tail floated 
delicately down around her, clinging as if in caress. 
Her cheeks were fresh and her eyes were sparkling 
as she swept in, like a vision of sun glow, to greet 
Billy in his favorite nook in the billiard-room; but 
a trace of the sparkle left her eyes as Billy ad- 
vanced eagerly to meet her. He did not notice 
the sunburst effect at all ! He had no heed for the 
black butterfly, nor the burnished copper hair, nor 
the fresh cheeks, nor even the sparkling eyes. 


210 


THE ENEMY 


“ Did you see her! ” he asked. 

“ Tavy, you mean?” she laughed. “I had 
her out for a drive, Billy.” 

“ How is she? How did she look? ” 

“ Pretty well, I should say.” Geraldine con- 
sidered the matter critically, with a pretty little 
pucker of concentration in lips and brow. “ Her 
hair was as black as ever, and she was quite able 
to laugh, when I told her about Tommy’s absurd 
fancy-dress breakfast.” 

“ Oh,” observed Billy. He should have been 
delighted that Tavy had not worn herself to a 
shadow with grief, but there was a selfish pang of 
disappointment in the thought that she had 
laughed. “ What did she say? ” 

Geraldine’s face turned sweetly serious and her 
lashes drooped, as she took his hand and clasped 
her own over it. 

“ I don’t like to tell you, Billy.” Her voice was 
full of sympathetic modulation, low and gentle, 
and her brows twitched ever so slightly as she felt 
the wince in the big hand which lay in hers. She 
slipped her arm in his, and strolled with him to- 
wards the library. 

“ It’s all off then, permanently,” he guessed, 
and his voice was funereal in its dejection. “ I 
am not to see her any more.” 


THE ENEMY 


2 1 1 


“ I wouldn’t give up all hope even yet.” It was 
dim in the library, and the dark walls were half 
hidden in the glow of a low, wide-spreading, dull 
red lamp shade. She sat in one of the big leather 
couches, and drew Billy beside her. It was he 
who reached for her hand this time, and held to it. 

“ I did the best I could for you, Billy. I told 
her how sorry you were and how broken-hearted, 
and after I had pleaded with her, for half an hour, 
to forgive you, I asked for permission to bring you 
up; but she s&id, no, you could not come.” 

A sharp intake of the breath, and the hand 
which held Geraldine’s closed with such convulsive 
strength that she almost cried out with pain. 

“Poor little Tavy!” That was his first 
thought, and that was what the convulsive clutch 
of his hand had meant. Geraldine recognized it, 
and she felt her lips stiffen. She had at first in- 
terpreted that clutch as pain for himself. 

“ Poor little Tavy,” she repeated. “ Of course 
it hurt her, Billy. No girl likes to be humiliated; 
but, if I were you, I’d let the matter rest a week 
or two; then I’ll go up again, if you wish, and 
make another attempt.” 

“ Will you ! ” The tone was as eager as if it 
had been the first time she had proposed to go. 
He had no pride, none whatever! 


212 


THE ENEMY 


“ Of course I will, but I don’t like to. Frankly, 
Billy, I had all I could do to keep from saying 
what I thought. I don’t care for people who are 
unforgiving to my friends. Let’s don’t talk about 
it any more. Tell me about your business.” 

He was heavily plodding through the details 
of structural iron work, when Three-B Benning 
lounged into the library and shook hands heartily. 
There was no resentment in Three-B Benning that 
Billy had once made a fool of himself in this 
house, nor was there any either in Mrs. Benning 
when she presently joined them, rustling in her stiff 
silk, and beaming in motherly affection. Billy had 
not been with them much of late, and they missed 
him. How good it was to be among old friends, 
and what a jolly little home-like dinner party it 
was. Billy enjoyed it very much; but he left at 
half-past nine. 

First of all, as soon as he reached the city, he 
took a spin down the Drive. The windows in the 
bay were lighted, but there was no one visible in 
them, though once a shadow crossed the curtains ! 
The shadow lacked definition, so that he could not 
tell whether it was Tavy or Mrs. Stuart who had 
passed. He had never been able to tell, on any of 
the nights he had come up here ! 

Oh! if he could only see her, if he could only 


THE ENEMY 


213 


stand at a distance and gaze on her, it would be 
something to ease this intense longing which was in 
his heart! If he only could arrange to have some 
one take her to the theater, so that he could have 
even Hal’s hungry privilege of the opera glasses ! 
Poor Hal. This treat was cut off from him, too, 
now. It was one more of the black consequences 
piled up on Billy’s head. 

He must see her! The lights went out in the 
bay window up there, and it might have soothed 
him some to know, though it would have hurt him, 
too, that, when Tavy went back into the delf and 
white room, she kneeled by her bed and bowed her 
head on her arms, and longed and longed for a 
sight of Billy as he longed for a sight of her! 
Ashes are a light covering with which to hide a 
heart, Tavy, and there are hearts which must still 
ache, no matter how deeply they are buried. 

Morning. Three times a week, at ten-thirty, 
Tavy hurries off for her music lesson. Just across 
the Drive, at the corner where she takes the stage, 
are some steps leading down the bank. There is 
a sort of forlorn park there, with many steep little 
winding paths and innumerable steps to go up and 
go down, and feeble shrubbery, and a general air 
of making the best of things. Perhaps there is 
something in the very forlornness of the hillside 


214 


THE ENEMY 


retreat which appeals to Tavy, and perhaps it is 
because she has so few opportunities to be quite 
alone with her endless task of ash heaping, but, 
whenever there is no stage in sight, she wanders 
down for a five minutes’ stroll around the poor 
little fountain, and sometimes even sits on one of 
the starved looking benches. 

To-day, she rounds the little clump of shrubbery 
toward the fountain, her eyes cast to the ground, 
and her thoughts sombre with the weight of that 
endless task which she has taken upon herself, and 
which she has begun to fear will never quite cease. 
It is a sombre day, too, with the sky grayly over- 
cast and a gray mist in the air. Just on the other 
side of the shrubbery, near the fountain, is a tall 
young man gazing straight up through the 
branches. This is a splendid spot which he has 
found. Whenever he has a half hour to spend, he 
can look up at those windows, on the block beyond, 
without being conspicuous. 

Suddenly, as Tavy rounds the corner, she looks 
up from the ground and the tall young man looks 
down from the windows, and the gray skies dis- 
appear, and all the world is flooded with radiance, 
and a certain heart scatters its ashes as if they 
were nothing, and goes pounding away at a furious 
rate. Why, in all the universe there is no such 



With a cry of rapture, they are clasped in each other’s arms. 





THE ENEMY 


215 


thing as tragedy, or sorrow, or sombre thought; 
nothing but joy, music, youth, flaming color, love! 

“ Billy! Tavy! ” The two words are simul- 
taneous; they are exultant. For only a moment 
they stand and feast the eyes which had been so, so 
hungry, and then, with a cry of rapture, they are 
clasped in each other’s arms, clasped close, as if 
nothing should ever part them again ! 


CHAPTER XX 


A FRIENDLY CALL 

T HERE was a thrilling air of secrecy in 
Mike Dowd’s Sink, and Mike, watching 
the four lone survivors of the winter con- 
clave, lowered his yellow mustache in suspicion and 
contemplatively fingered his bungstarter. There 
was something doing, but the nature of it required 
such unusual preparations that Mike, in all his ex- 
perience, could find nothing upon which to base a 
theory. For a week there had been furtive whis- 
perings among Jerry-the-Limp, Piggy Marshall, 
Red Whitey and Tank Tonkey. This whispering 
might mean anything from a raid on a peanut 
stand to the murder of a friend. But what did 
it mean when Piggy Marshall, who had never 
been known to wear any other neck adornment 
than a blue gingham shirt with the top button open, 
suddenly produced from his pocket a tight little 
roll in clean yellow paper, and proceeded, with 
many painful jerks and much reddening of the face, 
to don a phenomenally low turn-down collar of 
216 


THE ENEMY 


217 


phenomenal whiteness, and a crisp little black and 
red bow tie, which was ready made and snapped 
on with a hook? What did it mean when Tank 
Tonkey, in like solemn manner, donned a like 
snow-white collar and attached a ready-made four- 
in-hand of violent blue? What did it mean when 
Jerry-the-Limp produced, from a flat parcel under 
his arm, a waiter’s white dickey of glistening cel- 
luloid, and buttoned it under his vest, presenting, 
in the twinkling of an eye, a startling transforma- 
tion from a poor, suffering, poverty-stricken crip- 
ple to a gentleman of means, in a spotless white 
shirt front and a substantial black bow tie ? What 
did it mean when Red Whitey, decorated in a 
green tie, went back to the tap and washed his 
face? 

“ What have you guys turned up? ” demanded 
Mike Dowd, his curiosity at last past bearing. 

“ Oh, nothin’.” It was Jerry-the-Limp who 
gave this nonchalant reply; Jerry, who had ad- 
justed every cravat and critically inspected it, who 
had turned up Piggy Marshall’s trousers band, so 
that it did not lop in a ragged gray edged line 
over the top of his belt, who had sent Red Whitey 
shuffling sullenly back to wash his face a second 
time, with instructions to use soap and a brick or 
quit the party. Jerry, even now, was going nerv- 


2 I 8 


THE ENEMY 


ously from one to the other of his forces, and or- 
dering the adjustment of buttons. 

“ Here, you bum,” Jerry commanded Piggy 
Marshall; “ didn’t I tell you to wet your hair when 
you combed it? ” 

“ Nothin’, eh ! ” growled Mike, viewing the 
resplendent quartette askance. “ If you stiffs pull 
anything phoney around this corner and get the 
Chicago Buffet in bad, I’ll pike you ! ” 

“ Aw, give that stuff the double bell, Mike,” 
husked Piggy Marshall, lounging over against the 
bar and twisting his neck to a comfortable settling 
in his collar. “ We’re just goona call on a 
friend.” 

“ Oh,” and Mike’s yellow mustache went up. 
“ The Tombs or the Island? ” 

Tank Tonkey, his eyes bulging from the en- 
forced position of his head, turned with the proper 
indignation of a respectable citizen, though to cast 
his scorn on Mike he was compelled to turn his 
entire body. 

“ Can’t a guy have friends that never cracked 
a rock?” he demanded. “This friend o’ 
ours ” 

“ Shut your yawp, you fat slob ! ” suddenly 
blazed Jerry-the-Limp. “ If I hear another rum- 
ble out of you, I’ll cave in your hoops ! ” and he 


THE ENEMY 


219 

shook a 'bony fist at the offending brother. “ Red, 
ain’t you got that map scraped yet? ” 

“You go to hell!” yelled the suffering Red 
Whitey from back at the tap. “ I got soap in my 
eye ! ” 

“ You don’t know how to use it,” scorned Jerry. 
“ Come on, or we’ll drop you off the wagon. Two 
slugs and two scuttles, Mike,” and, with the reck- 
lessly extravagant air which went with his celluloid 
shirt front and black bow tie, he counted a dime, a 
nickel and five pennies, on the bar. 

Red Whitey, with one eye closed and his face 
rasped to the color of his beard, came hurrying 
forward, leaving a stream of profanity behind him, 
and seized his “ scuttle of suds,” the same being a 
glass of beer; and the four, in solemn line, drank 
their parting drinks, leaving Mike Dowd mys- 
tified to the point of whittling a ring around his 
mallet handle. 

It was Jerry-the-Limp who led the way, strid- 
ing along with an appearance of great briskness, 
which, however, made but little headway, with 
Piggy Marshall beside him and Red Whitey and 
Tank Tonkey following. They trudged up the 
Bowery, in the blighting shadow of the elevated 
tracks, and over to Broadway, and far up town, 
a procession with a sedate purpose and stolid de- 


220 


THE ENEMY 


cision, their eyes popping, and their faces redden- 
ing from the cramping of their stiff collars, but 
their destination fixed inexorably in their minds ! 

Past the wholesale district, past the dry goods 
section, past the hotel quarter, and up near the 
theater district, where at last they turned in, with 
the unbreathed ease of them who have traversed 
continents, at one of the old office buildings. Just 
before they entered the lobby, Jerry-the-Limp 
drew up his cohorts for a final word of instruction, 
while a near-by policeman wondered whether or 
not he should trouble himself. 

“ Now, look here, you boneheads, listen to me. 
When you drill into this dump, hold your heads 
up and don’t look at the janitor. Just pass him 
right by, because if he ever catches your eye, he’ll 
give you the run. Follow me, and throw a bluff 
you got business where you’re goin’. Do you get 
me?” 

“ Shoot,” rumbled Tank Tonkey, his chin ele- 
vated, and a ridge of white numbness coming in 
his neck where it bound against his collar. 

“ Damn soap ! ” snarled Red Whitey, rubbing 
his knuckle in his eye. 

“ Well, when we get where we’re goin’,” went 
on Jerry, “ stick right close to me, and don’t any 


THE ENEMY 


221 


of you butt in unless I give you a stamp on the 
hoof. That’s all. Now!” 

With this word of command, General Jerry-the- 
Limp led his troops boldly into the lobby, and 
passed the elevator starter in unquestioned safety, 
and turned into the open car and lined up against 
the back wall in silent stiffness. 

“Twelf!” shrilled General Jerry, as the car 
shot upward. Tank Tonkey was holding his 
huge middle with anxious care, and Red Whitey’s 
knees were bent under him. Red had not ven- 
tured beyond the Bowery in years, and this was a 
foreign land. He wondered if the elevator boy 
had money, and would be good for a two gitney 
touch; but the motion was too swift for proper 
work. 

“Now!” again said Jerry-the-Limp, as they 
emerged on the twelfth floor. It was a word of 
reassurance as well as command, for Red Whitey 
was already showing signs of weakening, and 
seemed unanxious to leave the elevator. 

For only a moment General Jerry paused be- 
fore the office door of William Lane, Engineering 
Architect, then he boldly opened and entered, and 
the snubnosed office boy, who still felt that heredi- 
tary instinct for rod and line and hook and worm, 


222 


THE ENEMY 


was astounded to see confronting him the four 
most remarkable visitors who had ever infested 
that reception room. He was a city-bred boy, 
however, and he knew exactly what to do. He 
bristled straight up to the gate of the low railing, 
and barred the way of the entire four. He came 
about to Tank Tonkey’s middle shirt button. 

“ What do you want? ” he demanded. 

“Is Mr. Doe in?” The voice of Jerry-the- 
Limp, a wheedling voice, a voice intended to be 
suave, but which ended in a whine. 

“ What do you want? ” 

Red Whitey, catching the sweeping eye of the 
snubnosed boy on him, followed the line of the 
ceiling, as far as he could see it, in both direc- 
tions, and then studiously inspected the rug. He 
was most uncomfortable. Jerry-the-Limp, how- 
ever, was unruffled. He was sure of his ground. 

“ Just tell Mr. Doe it’s some friends dropped 
in to call on him.” 

The boy was city-bred. He studied the four 
friends of Mr. Doe with frankly admiring in- 
credulity, and then the snub nose seemed to spread, 
in sympathy with his suppressed grin. 

“Cards, please,” he requested. 

Jerry-the-Limp, given much to impulsiveness, 
suddenly leaned forward and snarled in the boy’s 


THE ENEMY 


223 

face, and the boy stepped back, startled by that 
ghastly mask. 

“ The names’ll do, you! ” he shrilled. “You 
tell Doe it’s Jerry-the-Limp! He’ll be right 
out!” 

For a moment the boy stood, stunned, and then, 
looking backwards at the friendly callers, with 
their shiny buttons and their frowsy crumpled 
clothing, and their startlingly contrasting collars 
and cravats, he went into the office of John Doe, 
where he found Billy’s partner bending, with pleas- 
ant absorption, over an intricate roof drawing. 
He had a fine problem here to solve, a delicate, 
complicated problem, where safety and grace must 
be combined. 

“ Out with it, Major.” He smiled down with 
good comradeship. 

“ Some callers for you, Mr. Doe. I didn’t tell 
’em you was in. One of ’em says his name is 
Jerry-the-Limp.” The boy saw the face of John 
Doe turn deathly pale, he saw his lean hands grip 
the edge of his drawing-board, he saw the eyes 
half close; then he saw the head come up, and 
John Doe was smiling down at him again. 

“ Jerry-the-Limp, eh? ” He spoke slowly, and 
as if his tongue were slightly thickened, but he 
smiled. “ Well, show them in, Major,” then, 


224 


THE ENEMY 


as the door closed, he reached for a glass of water, 
and stood gathering himself for the indignity. 

“Hello, Bow-Wow!” hailed Jerry-the-Limp 
cheerily, as he came into the little private office. 

John Doe stood silently until the four had clus- 
tered into the room. 

“You will not use that name here,” he said 
quietly. “Now, why have you come?” 

“ Just a friendly little call, Pal,” and Jerry-the- 
Limp grinned confidently up at him. “We 
thought you’d like to see some of your old buddies 
from down at the Sink.” 

“ You came for money, I suppose.” 

Tank Tonkey smiled pleasantly; Piggy Mar- 
shall chuckled in his throat; Red Whitey rubbed 
his knuckles in his eye, but his other eye looked 
pleased. 

“ Well, Brother,” returned Jerry-the-Limp, still 
grinning his impudent grin, “ I wouldn’t have men- 
tioned it myself, right off the bat this way, till we’d 
chatted a while about old times, but, if you want 
to help your old pals a little bit, why, we ain’t 
too proud to accept assistance.” Jerry, ended 
with another grin, and just to show that he was at 
ease, he put one foot on a chair and leaned on his 
knee, whereat the bottom of his celluloid dickey 
popped out of his vest. 


THE ENEMY 


225 


John Doe slowly paced the length of his little 
office; and Red Whitey, watching his erect car- 
riage, his straightly poised head, his neatly cropped 
silver Vandyke, and the marked distinction of his 
face, tugged at Jerry-the-Limp ’s coat and huskily 
whispered. 

“ Are you sure he’s the right guy? ” 

“ Shut your yawp ! ” growled Jerry-the-Limp. 
“ He didn’t deny it, did he?” 

With sudden decision, Doe sat at his desk and 
leafed through his ’phone book, and called a num- 
ber. 

“ Is this Mike Dowd? ” he asked. 

The effect of that simple question was magical! 
Tank Tonkey, who was never comfortable stand- 
ing, leaned against the wall with a thump which 
jarred the pictures, and he held his middle; Piggy 
Marshall tried to stick his finger between his col- 
lar and his throat; Red Whitey half opened the 
door, so he could have quick egress if needed, 
and stood listening, with his face fish-white where 
it gleamed through his red whiskers; Jerry-the- 
Limp, with active concern on his weazened face, 
hurried over to the desk. 

“ For the love of Pete, whacha goona do, Bow- 
Wow ! ” he implored. 

“ Just a moment, Mr. Dowd.” John Doe set 


226 


THE ENEMY 


down the receiver, and turned on Jerry-the-Limp 
a face so full of command that the poor suffering 
cripple drew up his leg instinctively to limp. “ I 
told you not to call me by that name,” he said 
sternly. “ You used it once before when I was 
in Mr. Dowd’s saloon. I warn you not to utter 
the syllables again. Stand back there ! ” 

Jerry-the-Limp, with a droop in his lips, turned 
to find the eyes of his cohorts glaring coldly upon 
him. 

“ Honest, Mr. Doe, if you turn us up to 
Mike ” 

Doe held up his hand, and Jerry-the-Limp, not 
quite knowing why, stopped. 

“ This is John Doe, Mr. Dowd,” he said into 
the ’phone. “ If you will remember when I was 
in your place not long ago, a man who pretended 
to be a cripple claimed acquaintance with me, un- 
der the name of Bow-Wow.” 

The four afternoon callers, huddled near the 
doorway in two groups, of three callers and one 
caller, heard a harsh voice crackling and snapping 
in the ’phone. 

“ Yes, they’re here,” returned Doe, with a 
smile. “ I merely called you up, Mr. Dowd, to 
ask your advice as to what to do with them.” 

The answer of Mike Dowd was so short, so 


THE ENEMY 


227 


clean-cut, and so vigorous, that every person in 
the room could hear it. 

44 Kill ’em ! ” 

A lot more came over the wire, not all the words 
were distinguishable and not all were printable, 
but enough could be gleaned, even by the caller 
nearest the door, whose red whiskers seemed to be 
curling tighter, to know that Mike Dowd promised 
to get Mr. Doe out of any consequences of his act 
if he killed them, or, if he didn’t want to mess his 
hands wkh them, merely to send them down to 
the Sink, and Mike would do the job. 

44 Thank you,” returned Mr. Doe, and hung up 
the receiver; then he faced his callers. “Get 
out.” 

The tone was not vociferous, it was not extraor- 
dinarily vigorous even, but there was such calm 
and firm decision about it that the callers got out; 
and, as they closed the door behind them, John 
Doe sunk limply on his desk, sprawled there, 
crushed, humiliated, shamed! 

44 You’re a fine fathead! ” growled Piggy Mar- 
shall, as they jostled out through the reception- 
room. He was already taking off his collar, and 
tearing it in the process. 

“ Didn’t I tell you you didn’t know the gent? ” 
demanded Red Whitey, who was well in the lead. 


228 THE ENEMY 

The snub-nosed office boy was opening the outer 
door for them. 

“ For a handful of butts I’d croak you ! ” husked 
Tank Tonkey vindictively, as they clustered in 
front of the elevator. u You had a fine frame- 
up, didn’t you? Oh, yes! We’d come up here 
— say, do you know what this outfit cost me?” 
and he shook the collar and the violent blue tie 
at Jerry-the-Limp. “ Nineteen cents ! Now you 
buy it!” 

“Do you suppose I want to play circus?” 
snarled Jerry-the-Limp, looking at the white cir- 
cle with aversion. “ Ain’t you sport enough to 
invest that much in a big gamble like this ? Why, 
all we had to do ” 

“Yes, we did!” Tank Tonkey again. He 
was too heavy to give himself much to wrath, but 
when he did, it was deadly. “ All we had to do 
was to smoke your hop, and think this millionaire 
sport was Bow-Wow, and we could milk him for 
the rest of our lives! Oh, yes, we did! ” Tank 
Tonkey’s rage was rising in proportion to his 
weight. “ I’ll lean on you, you shrimp ! ” 

“Shut your yawps, you boneheads!” shrilly 
yelled Jerry-the-Limp, wheeling on his followers 
with fierce command, but he saw in their cold eyes 
that his moral force was shattered and his leader- 


THE ENEMY 


229 


ship gone; and he had instant proof of it when 
Red Whitey, without a word of warning, suddenly 
pranced up and kicked him on the shin. 

“ Say! ” growled Piggy Marshall; “ don’t any 
of these elevators stop on this floor! ” 

A messenger boy stepped up to the row of ele- 
vators and pressed a button, and the next car 
flashed its red light. It was fairly crowded, and, 
as they thronged in, Jerry-the-Limp found himself 
forced violently into the periphery of Tank Ton- 
key. 

“Get out of me!” wheezed Tank, his voice 
made shrill by compression. “ Step away or I’ll 
bat you ! ” 

“Paste him one for me, Tank!” requested 
Piggy Marshall. 

“ I will, so help me, the minute I get room to 
swing an arm ! ” and in Tank’s reddened eyes there 
came a savage gleam. “ Push back, I tell you! ” 

“Get off my foot!” Piggy Marshall. He, 
too, was losing his temper. 

At that moment the elevator stopped at the main 
floor, and Jerry-the-Limp, feeling that the height 
of his unpopularity had arrived, popped out of the 
door, with a real limp. He might have gotten 
away clear, but the elevator starter, seeing him run, 
grabbed him by the coat. That was no way to de- 


230 


THE ENEMY 


tain Jerry-the-Limp, for his arms were out of the 
sleeves in an instant, and, leaving the coat in the 
starter’s hands, he darted through the lobby, in 
his blue shirt sleeves, with his celluloid dickey stick- 
ing straight out in front of him and his black bow 
tie slipped around under his ear. That second 
of delay, however, had been disastrous, for it 
enabled Red Whitey to catch him round the neck, 
at the curb, and, in two seconds more, Tank Ton- 
key and Piggy Marshall were upon him ! 

It took two policemen to drag Jerry-the-Limp 
from under his cohorts; and the last that admir- 
ing Broadway saw of General Jerry and his army, 
they were whizzing away in a patrol wagon, still 
snarling. 


CHAPTER XXI 


TOMMY TINKLE GOES A-PEDDLING 

M RS. STUART smiled as she opened the 
door, for the young man who stood 
there, with a portfolio of sketches under 
his arm and a whimsical grin on his wide lips, was 
Tommy Tinkle. 

“Any water-color drawings to-day, madam; 
any oil portraits to paint; any white-washing to 
do?” 

“ Step in, and I’ll look around,” invited Mrs. 
Stuart, very glad indeed that he had come, for 
smiling was rather rare, these days, in the Stuart 
apartments. 

“ Thank you.” Tommy hung his hat on the 
hall tree in the vestibule, and lounged into the 
pink and gray parlor, and laid his portfolio on 
the table, picked him a chair in the bay window, 
and reached for his cigarette case. “ A certain 
beautiful young lady is not at home, I suppose. 
Do you mind if I smoke? Foggy weather we’re 
having.” 


231 


232 


THE ENEMY 


“ Tavy is at her music lesson, and you know 
you may smoke, and I think we shall have some 
rain, and won’t you sit down.” It was good to 
hear her laugh, although the mirth did not extend 
as far as her patient eyes. 

Tommy drew Mrs. Stuart’s chair into a more 
pleasant view for her, and waited until she had 
seated herself, and reached for his portfolio. 

“ I’ve been doing some serious portrait work,” 
he observed. “ How is this one? ” 

Mrs. Stuart gave a little gasp of delight. 

“ Tavy! ” she cried. Tavy it was, glossy black 
hair, oval cheeks, slender, graceful neck, and, most 
marvelous of all, the dark gray eyes had within 
them a hint of their susceptibility to change 
through violet to blue! It was a happy Tavy 
who smiled up at Mrs. Stuart from the clean white 
page, but Tommy, with that fidelity which sees be- 
neath, had caught the trace of inborn wistfulness 
in the eyes. 

“ Pretty fine, from memory and sketches,” 
bragged Tommy, cocking his head on one side to 
admire his own work. “ The Hudson River, Mrs. 
Stuart, flows down through the State of New York 
in an almost directly north and south line for the 
more important part of its course. On its broad 
bosom floats a wealth of commerce. The next 


THE ENEMY 


233 


portrait is of a lady whom all must revere and 
admire, and whom to know is a privilege,” and he 
turned the leaf, glancing nonchalantly at the ceil- 
ing. “ Lady Stuart.” 

“ You flatter with your brushes as well as with 
your tongue, I’m afraid,” protested Mrs. Stuart, 
pleased nevertheless, for Tommy had limned her 
in one of those rarer moments, during her recent 
happiness, when she had redeveloped the mischief 
which accounted for some of the imps in Tavy’s 
eyes. 

“ You speak but to charm,” rattled on Tommy. 
“ The shores of the many bays and inlets in the 
vicinity of New York are the most interestingly 
populated of any city in the world. Into New 
York Harbor come ships from every clime. This 
is Geraldine. I name her so that you may know 
for whom the portrait was intended, and so con- 
gratulate me. The next is the artist himself, 
painted in a period of repose and just on the point 
of smoking a cigarette with easy nonchalance. 
The Atlantic Ocean, Mrs. Stuart, is an extremely 
large body of water, and turning the page, you find 
yourself gazing on the manly features of Billy 
Lane. Handsome chap, isn’t he? Mrs. Stuart, 
we have now arrived at the object of my visit.” 
He handed her the last named portrait, and closed 


234 


THE ENEMY 


the portfolio. “ Now, tell me, what is your frank 
and unbiased opinion of Billy? ” 

She did not answer immediately, although she 
shot at him a swift and shrewd glance. There 
was much method in Tommy’s madness, as she had 
long since divined. She studied the picture for a 
while in musing silence. It was an excellent por- 
trait of Billy, at his best, wholesome, honest, hand- 
some, good-natured Billy; and her heart went out 
to him, as it always had; but it went out to him 
now in sorrow and pity. 

“ I like Billy very much,” she admitted, but the 
smile was gone from her face. “ He has many 
noble qualities.” 

“ I knew you’d say that,” Tommy promptly re- 
joined. “ Every one who knows him must say 
it. Why can’t he come back, and promise to be 
good, and be forgiven? ” 

“ Please don’t, Tommy,” begged Mrs. Stuart 
soberly. “ From what you say, I judge that you 
know what happened here, and if you know, you 
already understand why Billy can never be the 
same to us.” 

“ Probably not.” He smiled at her with en- 
gaging frankness. “ Billy didn’t send me, but I 
know he wouldn’t expect to be quite the same to 
you. He wouldn’t ask a full restoration, but just 


THE ENEMY 


235 

a crumb, just the privilege of coming up here once 
in a while and sitting around.” 

She shook her head sadly. 

“ It wouldn’t do, Tommy. It couldn’t be kept 
to that. You knew, of course, that Billy and 
Tavy were very fond of each other.” 

“ I couldn’t help knowing it,” and the whim- 
sical grin flashed on Tommy’s face. “ From the 
minute Billy met Tavy he made a nuisance of 
himself. If I asked him the time, he told me 
about Tavy’s curls. If I said good-morning, he 
told me about her eyes. I’ve never seen a fellow 
so foolish about a girl. And now if you could 
see him, Mrs. Stuart, you’d pity the boy. He’s 
all broken up, he’s pale and hollow-eyed, he can’t 
eat, he can’t sleep, he can’t do anything but just 
moon around and want to see Tavy. I’m serious, 
Mrs. Stuart. Billy’s my best friend, and I’ll ad- 
mit that he needed a punishment. But he’s had 
it. Give us a chance, won’t you? Just let Billy 
and me come up here for five minutes at a time, 
and sit in a corner and say nothing, just look and 
go away. I’ll even put blinkers on Billy, if you 
say so. I’ll ” 

She stopped him with a smile of infinite sad- 
ness. 

“ What you say only makes me the firmer in 


THE ENEMY 


236 

my determination. I’m sorry that he has suf- 
fered, but the mere fact that he thinks so much 
of Tavy makes it dangerous for him to come here. 
I would not torture her with a love she could not 
enjoy, nor permit her to marry a man who would 
be bound to make her unhappy.” 

Tommy stiffened a trifle. 

“ Billy would make no girl unhappy,” he stoutly 
maintained. “ His one weakness is his only fault, 
but I personally know that he has never tried to 
overcome it. He has never had occasion to do 
so until now. He has not taken a drink since 
the last time he came to your door. He’s cured, 
and all he needs is a little encouragement.” 

Again she smiled and shook her head. 

“ I could not trust him. I have seen too much 
of what that weakness leads to. I have seen men 
stop drinking for brief periods, and sometimes 
quite long ones, but if they once have that crav- 
ing they never are quite safe; never,” and that old 
bitterness sprang into her eyes. 

“That’s just it!” Tommy’s voice was tri- 
umphant. “ Billy has no craving, and I’ll swear 
to it. Here’s what I propose. You may be 
making a serious mistake. If Tavy and Billy 
think so much of each other, and Billy is all right, 
you’d be very sorry you kept them apart. You 


THE ENEMY 


237 


just let Billy come up here, now and then, and 
watch him. If he makes one more mistake, just 
one, turn him out. I’ll help you. So will Billy.” 
Adroit Tommy. He saw, as she glanced down 
again at the ingratiating picture of Billy, that 
there was no wavering in her, and he knew better 
than to compel a refusal which would be final. 
He went abruptly to the window. “ What a queer 
government boat. Did you ever see one like it, 
Mrs. Stuart?” He pointed it out, a long, low 
craft with a myriad of angling derricks, which, at 
that distance, looked like toothpicks. He relieved 
her of the sketch, as she stood at the window. 
“ Will you and Tavy go to the theater with me 
some night this week? ” 

Again she laughed at him. Tommy Tinkle 
was an irresistible cure for the blues, and her eyes 
softened as he stood looking down at her. She 
saw through Tommy. She saw mournfulness un- 
derneath his mockery. It was a quality she could 
easily distinguish because she was so thoroughly 
acquainted with it. 

“ You’ll have to ask Tavy about that.” Sud- 
denly her eyes narrowed. “ You’re not arranging 
for us to meet any one ? ” The shocked look on his 
face was enough answer. “ Pardon me, Tommy.” 

“ I’m not damaged in the slightest,” he lightly 


23 8 THE ENEMY 

assured her. “ How soon will the certain beauti- 
ful young lady be home? ” 

“ She should be here now,” and Mrs. Stuart 
glanced at the clock. 

“ Then I’ll wait,” and Tommy strolled across 
to the piano. He had a habit of making himself 
perfectly at home everywhere he went. He had 
been known to call merely because he liked to sit 
in a certain chair and think. He opened the piano 
and ran his fingers over the keys. “ I have de- 
cided Tavy and you need some excitement. 
You’ve been cooped up here too much since Billy 
went away. If you won’t let him come back, I’ll 
have to take you out myself.” 

He leafed over some music and pushed it aside, 
then he struck into a gay little composition of his 
own, a whimsical thing, full of unexpected turns, 
and ending with a crash which was humor itself 
caught into melody. 

“ You always seem happy,” mused Mrs. Stuart, 
studying him curiously. 

“ It’s about the only good thing I do,” returned 
Tommy soberly. “ I think I’ll go home.” 

He had figured it all out. Before he left the 
room, he managed to slip the portrait of Billy 
under a sheet of music on the table. They’d find 
it there later. 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE VISION 

H AD the swine walked in at the feast to 
claim acquaintance with the prodigal son, 
that returned wanderer could not have 
been more startled and degraded in his own eyes 
than was John Doe at the appearance of his one- 
time cronies of the Bowery. Revolting ghosts 
from his besotted past, they had come in upon him 
to soil the cleanness of his present manhood. 
Why, his swine were there before he had even 
sat at the feast, before the fatted calf had been 
killed; and he shuddered to think of the long train 
of persecution which had threatened him. It had 
been his impulse to share with these unfortunates 
some measure of his prosperity, but, in a flash, he 
had seen before him endless extortion which would 
finish only with his death. Let him go where he 
would, these vermin would find him out, and in- 
trude their brazen faces, made impudent by his 
helplessness, into the finest and best of his right- 
fully earned surroundings. The one glowing 
239 


240 


THE ENEMY 


dream of his life centered on the day when, freed 
from all his clogs and encumbrances, and walking 
upright in the mental and moral and spiritual image 
of God, he should rejoin Jean and Tavy! Even 
into that sanctuary these foul birds of carrion 
would intrude; would present their frowsy selves 
before the pure eyes of his wife and daughter, and, 
clapping him on the shoulder, call him brother ! 

No man may escape his guilt. He cannot hide 
himself so well beneath the guise of respectability, 
the shelter of wealth, nor the wall of years, but 
that, at some unexpected moment, when the world 
seems the happiest and the gayest and the fullest 
of radiant promise, his old-time sin will raise its 
frightful visage above the horizon, and cover all 
his sky. 

That beautiful little problem in roof construc- 
tion, that delicate problem, the solution of which 
must combine strength and grace, and which had 
promised so much pleasure; he looked upon it now 
with aversion. The joy was gone from it, as all 
joy from this hour had departed from him. He 
put on his coat and hat and left the office, but, 
before he went, he considered well what, if any, 
moral obligation he owed to his old companions, 
Jerry-the-Limp and Piggy Marshall and Red 
Whitey and Tank Tonkey. If it be the obliga- 


THE ENEMY 


241 


tion of the strong to protect the weak, of the able 
to feed the incompetent, of the ambitious to supply 
the lazy, of the rich to support the poor, then he 
owed a debt to his afore-time brother swine. 
Money laid in their hands would do them no good, 
so he called up Mike Dowd again, and, much to 
that gentleman’s indignant protest, arranged a 
fund to be held secretly for the denizens at the 
Sink, when they should be ill or in trouble, or im- 
moderately thirsty. Then, his conscience washed 
of this, he went home to the dim, heavy quiet of 
Billy’s lounging-room. 

Burke came in to offer his services, but, being 
an experienced soldier of fortune, he discerned in 
a glance, without being told, that John Doe would 
infinitely prefer to be alone; so Burke quietly ef- 
faced himself. 

The old, old occupation, the one which came 
upon him at every untoward turn of his new life; 
self-analysis, self-revilement, deep, deep self-abase- 
ment; and these things are good for no man 
except for a momentary acknowledgment to 
strengthen him. Slowly, inexorably, he went back 
over his distorted career, trying to comprehend by 
what impossible steps he had slipped into the de- 
grading annihilation from which Billy had rescued 
him. It was incredible! He could not see how 


242 


THE ENEMY 


it was possible for any man of brilliant intellectual 
attainments, of notable and honorable achievement, 
of enviable social position, of rare, high fortune 
in his married life, to forsake all these things for 
an existence of foul besottedness, the consequences 
of which, even now, after the miracle which had 
happened to him, could be terrible. Even now 
his soul was writhing in abject misery. Tavy was 
miserable; Jean was miserable; Billy, good, kind 
Billy who had brought him back from his wretched 
oblivion, was miserable. And for what ? All for 
that yellow liquid which stood in the decanter at 
his hand, a glass beside it. 

Whisky. What was it? A taste on the 
tongue, a numbing of the brain, an exhilaration of 
the blood, and then a paralysis of every single 
thing, physical, mental, and moral, which is the 
best in man; a paralysis in which there is no joy, no 
happiness, no comfort. Why! Why should a 
man voluntarily subject himself to this debasement 
of every nobler instinct, of every finer attribute, 
of every quality he holds most dear! It was mon- 
strous ! It was not to be believed ! 

A taste upon the tongue, a numbing of the brain, 
an exhilarating of the blood, that was all. There 
was nothing more which could be catalogued as a 
reason for tilting that decanter, and pouring the 


THE ENEMY 


243 


pungent yellow liquid into a glass and swallowing 
it. That was all; and yet men gave their wealth, 
their abilities, their families, their lives, their souls, 
to tilt that decanter and pour the yellow liquid 
into the glass, and swallow it ! A taste upon the 
tongue, a numbing of the brain, an exhilaration 
of the blood. John Doe reached out and laid his 
hand upon the decanter. 

What devil of perversity had seized upon him! 
Why, looking this inexplicable enigma calmly and 
logically in the face, should he suddenly be impelled 
to tilt that decanter and pour the yellow liquid 
into the glass, and swallow it? Why, knowing all 
that he knew, should he be seized with a sudden 
fierce desire to feel that taste upon his tongue, to 
feel those numbing fumes ascending into his brain? 
There would ensue a dizzy discomfort, a revolt of 
his stomach, a thickening of his tongue, a blearing 
of his eyes, an ugly relaxation of all his facial 
muscles, and yet 

By God, he must have it! He must! That 
old fever of desire swept upon him with an ir- 
resistible flood, it shook him from head to foot, 
it distended his eyes, it strained the leaders of 
his throat, it grasped him with a demoniacal 
frenzy! He must have it, in spite of all knowl- 
edge, in spite of all reasoning, in spite of all that 


244 


THE ENEMY 


he held most dear, in spite of man, in spite of God ! 
There was no reason for this, there was no ex- 
planation, there was no possible way of under- 
standing; but he must feel that taste upon his 
tongue ! It was the impulse of a maniac, of a 
madman, of some accursed fiend which had driven 
out John Doe from this helpless body, and urged 
it to its destruction! He was bent and crouched 
and rigidly tensed in every in-curving member, 
even to his claw-like fingers, as, with widely spread 
mouth and staring eyes, he lifted the glass and 
filled it to the brim, and raised it, trembling, 
toward his lips ! 

Tavy! She stood just before him, staring in 
shocked wonder, her luminous gray eyes struggling 
between surprise and reproach, her sweet face 
pallid, her black ringlets clustering about her 
white brow, her exquisitely curved lips, which had 
half parted in a smile of welcome, now stiffened. 
At first he thought that the beautiful figure in the 
mouse-colored frock was an apparition; but no, it 
was Tavy, Tavy herself, Tavy in the flesh! Dur- 
ing the whirl of his mad lunacy, she had come in 
at the door, unnoticed, and Billy now followed her. 
All John Doe’s tensed muscles relaxed, and from 
his nerveless fingers he dropped the glass ! 

After such a whirlwind of passion he would 


THE ENEMY 


245 


normally have sunk into a chair, exhausted, limp, 
but there had come a new and an even more power- 
ful stimulus. This was his daughter, his Tavy, 
one of the two images which he had held before 
his mind by night and by day, until she, with Jean, 
had become a part of all his mind, of all his soul, 
of his very flesh and blood ! 

And she had come to save him! She had ap- 
peared like a blessed vision sent from Heaven, to 
stop him in that one and only moment when his 
own strength had not been sufficient for his needs, 
to stop him at the instant when he was about to 
take the downward plunge into that hell from 
which he could never again arise ! In that he saw 
the finger of divine intervention, and in him there 
welled up a great flood of gratitude, which swept 
away all that cold repression he had for so long 
forced upon himself; and, as he looked upon her, 
as the great change came over him which brought 
him back from the distortion wrought by the fiend 
of craving, he saw her eyes soften with compassion 
and her lips curve with the smile of sweet pity. 

“ Tavy! ” The cry burst from him in an agony 
of love and longing. “ My little Tavy! ” and he 
stretched out his trembling arms. 

For a startled instant she turned to Billy, her 
heart beating high and fast. 


246 


THE ENEMY 


“ He is your father, Tavy.” 

Her father! At first she could not compre- 
hend it. Her father! She was dazed. Then, 
as the full significance of the revelation broke upon 
her, she sprang to him. She was in his arms and 
sobbing upon his shoulder, and, over and over, 
with a broken voice, and the tears streaming down 
his white cheeks, he was calling her his little Tavy, 
his little Tavy, his little Tavy! 


CHAPTER XXIII 


SIDE BY SIDE 

F ATHER and daughter! What transports 
they knew in this hour of their re-union! 
They were so lost in the wonder of being 
together, after their fifteen years of separation, 
that they did not notice when Billy tip-toed from 
the room; and they were still so lost in their joy 
that they scarcely noticed when he returned. 
They were sitting in the leather couch near the 
window. The eyes of Tavy were moist with 
happy tears, and upon Harrison Stuart, long sick 
of heart hunger, there had come a great peace 
from the mere presence of his beautiful daughter, 
whose warm little hand he now stroked and patted 
and fondled. 

They were both eager in their welcome of Billy, 
when they became aware of him. Tavy made 
room for him on the couch, and, with one hand in 
his and one in her father’s, she was a very, very 
happy little Tavy indeed. 

They were rather quiet for a trio to whom had 
247 


THE ENEMY 


248 

come so much that was new and wonderful, when 
suddenly, out of a clear sky, as it were, came the 
question of why Billy and Tavy had come here. 

“ I’m not quite sure,” puzzled Billy, while Tavy 
smiled at his confusion. “ I think we meant to 
run off or something. You know, Tavy and I 
have not seen each other for two weeks, and we 
accidentally met in the park this morning. Of 
course, we didn’t see how we were ever going to 
be separated again, so we came up here to talk it 
over.” 

“ I understand.” Tavy’s father was very grave 
and thoughtful. “ I feel certain that, after you 
had talked it over, you would have decided for 
Tavy to go home to her mother.” 

They seemed to be doubtful of that. Neither 
of them answered for a while, and Billy moved a 
little closer to Tavy. 

“ Well, I don’t know,” was the frank admission. 
“ I don’t believe we intended to do that.” 

“You see, Daddy — ” She stopped, and 
laughed in sheer delight. It was so strange to use 
that word, and yet so good! “ You see, Daddy, 
Billy is never going to — to forget himself any 
more ; but Mummy wouldn’t believe it for a long, 
long time; but if Billy and I were just to be mar- 
ried, then, by and by when Billy had turned out 


THE ENEMY 


249 

all right, Mummy would be very glad that we — 
had done it.” 

She was so ingenious about it, so certain that 
she was right, so charming in her sureness that 
any one could see this simple logic, that Harrison 
Stuart knitted his brows in concern. 

“ So you would have been married,” he pon- 
dered, and thought it over a long, long time. 
“ No, Tavy, it wouldn’t do. I know, if Billy 
doesn’t, just what danger there is. Billy thinks 
he is cured, and I hope that he is, but he has not 
yet passed through his fire of temptation. He 
must conquer his enemy before he marries my little 
Tavy.” 

“ But I could help him.” 

“ Not that! Not that!” There was the 
harshness of sudden fear in his voice. “ Tavy.” 
He hesitated. “ Has your mother told you my 
history? ” 

She sat motionless, and the color slowly ran up 
into her cheeks. She felt almost guilty in the 
knowledge which she had of her father. She was 
ashamed, not alone for him, but ashamed that she 
knew. The long, curving lashes came down over 
her eyes, and the hand which lay in Harrison 
Stuart’s clasped his own, in fondness. 

“ She has, then.” He surmised it from her 


250 


THE ENEMY 


downcast eyes, from her confusion, from her 
silence, and, for a moment, he bowed his head. 
This was a humiliation which hurt more than all 
his other hurts ! 

“ Only just now, Daddy.” She edged closer 
to him, and drew Billy with her. “ It was not un- 
til the night Billy — went away,” and this time it 
was Billy’s turn for self-abasement. Of the three, 
Tavy alone, clear-eyed, clear-souled Tavy, had no 
cause for self-reproach, and yet she was as ashamed 
as they, and this added the more to their guilt. 

“ Then you know that, in one case at least, mar- 
rying a man to reform him was a failure.” He 
spoke quickly, as he grappled with the problem 
which confronted them. He put hurt pride away 
from him. “ Billy believes in himself, and you be- 
lieve in him, but your father and mother are going 
to insist that Billy must prove his strength before, 
not after, he has taken your happiness in his 
hands.” Both young people were silent and 
sombre-eyed, but there was a certain squaring of 
Billy’s mouth which indicated some strong resolu- 
tion in him. “ I’m going to propose a plan,” 
Tavy’s father went on. “ I have yet some time 
before I can announce myself as Harrison Stuart. 
I must be sure that there can be no further stain 
attached to that name before I take it to my wife.” 


THE ENEMY 


251 

“Why, Daddy! ” Tavy turned to him in as- 
tonishment. “ You talk as though you were go- 
ing to stay here ! I wouldn’t go home to Mummy 
without you! Oh, she’ll be so happy, Daddy!” 
and, reaching up, she pressed her warm face against 
his cold one, and patted his other cheek. 

“ Not yet, Tavy dear. Why, only to-day I 
would have fallen, had not God sent you to me 
just in time. I dare not go to Jean so long as 
this danger threatens me. Every day I fight this 
battle, and, until I win, your mother must not 
know that I am alive. I must have your promise 
for that. You see why, don’t you? ” 

A pressure of the hand was his only answer. 
Tavy’s eyes were swimming with tears. Poor 
Mummy, poor Mummy! And poor Daddy! 
And poor Billy ! And poor Tavy ! 

“ I shall win, however.” There was the ring 
of confidence in his voice. “ You must go home, 
Tavy, and Billy must fight out his battle, side by 
side with me. Then when we are perfectly sure 
of ourselves, we will come to you, side by side. 
How about it, Billy? ” 

The two men looked at each other for a mo- 
ment, and then they shook hands, across Tavy, and 
she was a very, very happy little girl, for one 
with so many tears in her eyes. 


252 


THE ENEMY 


“ It will be the first real secret I ever had from 
Mummy,” she wondered. “ I don’t know how I 
shall ever keep it ! ” 

“ You will have more,” and now there was ex- 
ultation in his tone. “ I have you, Tavy, and that 
is a joy I had not dared to hope for until the end 
of my trial. You must arrange for clandestine 
meetings with Billy and me, and we’ll buy a beauti- 
ful house for Mummy, and spend the time in fit- 
ting it up, so that we may take her home like a 
royal princess when the happiest day of my life 
arrives.” 

Tavy clapped her hands at that, and laughed 
like a child. It was such a glorious trick to play 
on Mummy, such a delightful secret to hug to 
one’s breast! 

“ It’s dreadfully late,” and she looked reproach- 
fully at the clock on the mantel. “ I have to start 
home in a hurry, or Mummy will be worried. I 
don’t suppose we could spare time to drive out 
right now past some of the places where we might 
want to buy the house.” 

“ I don’t suppose we could,” her father laughed. 
“ If Mummy is worried about you, I think I had 
better give you up immediately.” 

He did not, however. He kept her there for 
many fleeting minutes, and it was a very difficult 


THE ENEMY 


253 


parting, indeed. Billy wanted to take her to the 
corner near the enchanted apartments, but she 
would not let him. Instead, she had her father 
and Billy both escort her to the stage, and, as far 
as she could see through the crowded traffic, she 
looked back out of the window and watched them 
standing on the curb, side by side, the old man and 
the young, at the threshold of their mutual battle. 

What a mixture of emotions was the sparkling 
and bubbling and worried and dubious Tavy who 
hesitated at the door of the enchanted pink and 
gray parlor. Her eyes were dancing, her cheeks 
were aglow, the imps peeped cautiously from her 
glossy curls, and there was a little pucker in her 
brow. She had to keep the wonderful secret of 
a new found daddy, and of the beautiful cottage 
for the royal princess, and she had also to reinstate 
Billy, so no wonder she was all ajumble. 

“ Where have you been, Tavy? You’re late,” 
exclaimed her mother, the traces of her anxiety 
still upon her. 

“ With Billy.” The frank reply promptly, but 
in a doubtful voice. 

There was a startled look in Jean Stuart’s face, 
and then she turned and walked into the bay win- 
dow, where she stood and looked down at the 
river, in deep trouble. She had known that this 


254 


THE ENEMY 


moment must come, and she had her answer 
ready, but it was a difficult one to speak. The 
arms of her daughter stole about her. 

“ Mummy dear.” The voice was low and 
pleading. “ Billy must come back. I know that 
he will never drink too much again. It isn’t fair 
to judge him by your experience. It isn’t fair not 
to give him a second chance. Please, Mummy; I 
love Billy so.” 

Jean Stuart took her daughter in her arms, laid 
her hand upon the glossy curls and drew the head 
upon her shoulder, as if by that she could surround 
this child of hers from the sorrow which had been 
her own. Yes, she knew love, and just what ap- 
palling self-sacrifice it could mean, and it was be- 
cause Tavy loved Billy so that her mother was 
strengthened in her determination. 

“ It is against my wishes for Billy to come here 
or for you to meet him,” she said, reflecting cu- 
riously that her voice was harsh and dry. A sob 
aroused her, and she turned. Tavy had found 
the picture of Billy, but, as she caught the pitying 
gaze of her mother, she clasped the picture and 
went into her own room. 

It was a long, long time before Jean Stuart fol- 
lowed. In the dainty little delf and white room, 
she found Tavy kneeling by the bedside, the pic- 


THE ENEMY 


255 


ture before her, and the head of black curls pil- 
lowed upon her arm. The shoulders were trem- 
bling with silent sobs. 

Had she been harsh? Had Tommy Tinkle 
been right when he said that her judgment was 
warped? Jean did not know. She only saw that 
this child whom she had carried in her arms, blood 
of her blood and flesh of her flesh, was in deep 
sorrow, and suddenly, with the tears at last spring- 
ing into her own dry eyes, and with a tugging at 
her heart strings which she could not resist, she 
bent over her daughter in a flood of tenderness. 

“ Tavy dear,” and her hand again sought the 
curly head; “ Billy may have his second chance.” 


CHAPTER XXIV 


WHEN ONE HAS A TAVY 

W AS there ever such a place as Wood- 
brier! To reach Woodbrier, you ride 
on the wings of love along fairy streets 
and elfin roads and magic forests, over hills of 
ecstatic joy and through glades of endless bliss; 
that is, you do it if you are a Billy and have a 
Tavy by your side, all swathed in a shapeless dus- 
ter and perked with a charming motor bonnet, and 
protected by a gauzy veil which half conceals and 
half reveals bright eyes and softly glowing cheeks 
and glossy black curls. Even the presence of a 
partially convinced and somewhat reluctant 
Mummy Stuart will not cool your delirium, as, 
with such a Tavy by your side, you turn in at the 
paradise which is Woodbrier. You go down some 
rude steps, which twist and turn amid great sway- 
ing trees, and you come upon a little rustic house, 
the broad porches of which overhang a little rock- 
bound lake. The water is deep and clear and blue, 
and the steep dark hills which confine it are up- 
256 


THE ENEMY 


257 


side down in its pellucid depths, so that the tops 
of the trees and the blue of the sky meet in the 
water; and you may look far, far down into that 
bewitched mirror and read a happy future — if 
you have a Tavy by your side. 

That was the future Billy read, from their rus- 
tic table on the porch, where a sort of glorified 
waiter takes your order and goes away and you 
forget about him for a long, long time, so that 
he is not bothersome, and you can pay more at- 
tention to the Tavy by your side. 

Of course the swathing duster was thrown off, 
and the gauzy veil lifted, and even Mrs. Stuart’s 
wrap was laid aside by some necromancy. Oh, 
yes, Billy had done it himself, with a smile and a 
bow and a pleasant word, but he forgot about it in a 
moment after, forgot about it in the wonder of 
Tavy’s luminous big eyes, blue now, like a 
troubled sky. 

This was Billy’s first outing with Tavy and 
Tavy’s mother, his first meeting, in fact, since that 
wonderful time, three days before, when he found 
Tavy in the little park and caught her in his arms; 
and Billy, for all his happiness, was grave and 
thoughtful, too, for he realized that he was merely 
allowed to call, not really desired; that is, by one 
of the ladies. He felt keenly that he must be on 


THE ENEMY 


258 

his good behavior, so he automatically remem- 
bered, now and then, to smile at Mummy Stuart 
and speak a pleasant word; but this was difficult. 
He was very fond of Mummy Stuart; but he had 
been separated from Tavy for so long; and love 
is selfish, as it must always be; and mothers have 
lived their lives ; and the world is for the young ! 

Was there ever such a place as Woodbrier, 
where the wild flowers tangle in the grass, and a 
choir of birds sings, unceasingly; where soft 
breezes come to ruffle the surface of the glossy 
little lake, and whisper wonderful secrets in the 
swaying branches of the trees ; and where all the 
food and drink is nectar and ambrosia, when one 
is a Billy and has a Tavy by his side. 

What was that which sparkled and glittered and 
danced, with a thousand flashing colors, on Tavy’s 
hand? The ring! It was placed there, in the 
enchanted pink and gray parlor, just before the 
start for Woodbrier, but with the distinct under- 
standing that it was the symbol of Billy’s strength, 
and that when Billy’s strength should vanish, the 
ring should vanish, never to return ! Such an easy 
condition that, by which to place a ring of such 
glorious significance on the finger of such a mar- 
velous girl as Tavy; and now here was the ring, 
happy, too, it seemed, catching the blue of the sky 


THE ENEMY 


259 

and the green of the leaves and the red of the 
charming motor-bonnet and the gold of the sun, 
and all the other countless tints and shades from 
far and near, and darting them in all directions, as 
if it were a fountain of sparks. 

Mrs. Stuart, watching Billy and Tavy, and see- 
ing how happy they were in each other, relented a 
little of her grimness. He was a fine-looking 
young fellow, manly, wholesome, honorable, trust- 
worthy. Could it be possible that her own bitter 
experience had warped her judgment and made 
her harsh ? Perhaps. It was not unlikely. Billy 
might turn out to be entirely safe, and, if so, little 
Tavy would be happy all her life, and that was 
all which was to be desired. At any rate, he had 
his second chance, and he should not be cramped 
by unsympathetic reserve. That is not the best 
help which an anxious and eager young man can 
have, one who is sturdily bound to do right, one 
who, clear down in the honest heart of him, wishes 
to deserve approbation. So Tavy’s mother, hav- 
ing had plenty of time to think all these things, 
while the lovers were with many words saying 
nothing at all to each other, at last seized on one 
of those instants when Billy paused to look at her 
and smile politely. She leaned forward, and there 
was a delicate flush upon her cheeks, for the set- 


26 o 


THE ENEMY 


tling of things and the ride had done her good. 

“ I’ll have to confess that I have missed these 
little outings, Billy.” 

There was not much more needed to make young 
Lane’s happiness complete and unalloyed. That 
was the first genuinely friendly word Tavy’s 
mother had said to him; but it was not the last. 
She was very pleasant indeed during that wonder- 
ful dinner, and when the odd lanterns were lit and 
the sun had faded away, and the song of the birds 
had died in sleepy goodnight chirps, and there were 
stars in the glassy little lake, and soft music from 
somewhere around the mysterious leaf-hidden cor- 
ner, why, Elysium could offer no advantage over 
Woodbrier ! 

Then there was the ride home, back through 
the magic forests, and the elfin roads, and the fairy 
streets, to the enchanted apartment, where Mrs. 
Stuart was thoughtful enough to allow the en- 
chanted couple a long, blissful hour all by them- 
selves. Only once did Mummy Stuart break the 
pleasant let-bygones-be-bygones spirit which she 
had assumed for the young man’s benefit, and that 
was when, on bidding him goodnight, she held 
his hand for a moment and looked earnestly and 
wistfully into his eyes, and said : “ Remember, 
Billy, never again ; never ! ” 


THE ENEMY 


261 


And Billy, with his whole heart and his whole 
soul and with all his purpose of high honor in his 
eyes, repeated after her: “ Never again, never! ” 

When Mrs. Stuart had gone to her own room, 
she wondered at the tremendous amount of laugh- 
ing and whispering in the pink and gray parlor. 
Young people just on the verge of blissful un- 
known seas were given to whispering perhaps, but 
not to so much free and joyous laughing; but not 
many young people in their circumstances had such 
an amazing secret to hide from a mother. Their 
entire hour was spent in talking about the perfect 
house which was to be bought and furnished, for 
the home-coming of the royal princess. And that 
was nearly the whole of the burden of the love 
making. 

The very next day Billy secured Tavy for a 
drive, all by himself, and the first place they went 
was to the office of William Lane, where they se- 
cured, without a particle of coaxing, the company 
of a distinguished looking elderly gentleman with 
waving hair and a neatly trimmed silver Vandyke, 
and a far-away suggestion of imps in his dark 
gray eyes, and a nugget of joy in his heart so big 
and so bright that it glowed right up through his 
countenance. 

A ridiculous thing transpired, when they were 


262 


THE ENEMY 


all three in the car. Billy had a list of houses; 
but so had the distinguished-looking elderly gentle- 
man; but so had Tavy! And whose list did they 
go to see first? How foolish it would be to an- 
swer the question. 

That was a glorious afternoon, too, an after- 
noon of boundless happiness ! Of course, not one 
of the houses was quite good enough for the royal 
princess. They never are, on the first day, but 
there were other days to come, days of just such 
tremendous enjoyment as this. 

Two nights later, there was another big secret 
for Tavy to keep. Tavy and Mummy Stuart and 
Billy went to the theater, and she knew exactly 
where to look, away in the corner under the bal- 
cony, for the distinguished-looking gentleman with 
a pair of folding opera glasses, who stared at them 
rudely all through the show. That was the hard- 
est secret of all to keep, for Tavy could not for- 
bear smiling and nodding to the distinguished-look- 
ing elderly gentleman, whenever Mummy Stuart’s 
back was turned, and once she waved her hand at 
him, and half a dozen times she was nearly caught, 
and altogether it was the most enjoyable, exciting 
and ecstatic and nervous evening she had ever 
passed! Part of the joy of it, too, was that Billy 
was constantly on pins and needles for fear that 


THE ENEMY 


263 


she would be discovered, and once or twice he was 
almost on the point of using sheer force to keep 
Mummy Stuart from looking steadfastly in that 
direction. It amused Tavy to see him so busy, but 
he was used to being busy these days. He was so 
busy, in fact, that not until a full week after his 
reinstatement at the enchanted apartments did he 
carry the good news to Geraldine. 

Before going out to the Benning house, he tele- 
phoned, and when he arrived he found Geraldine 
in the quaintly screened summer-house at the end of 
the pergola, dressed in something light and fluffy, 
and suggestive somehow of a garden full of mar- 
guerites. 

“Well, Sis, I’m happy again! ” he loudly told 
her, as he shook both the hands she held out to 
him. “ Tavy took me back! ” 

“ Yes, so Tommy told me.” She was sweetly 
sympathetic with his happiness, smiling with pleas- 
ure at his good fortune. “ Tommy says you have 
to behave, though,” and she laughed, as if that 
were a splendid joke on Billy. 

“ You bet I do, or it’s all off with me.” He sat 
in the hammock beside her, and rumpled his hair, 
a way he had when he was excessively happy or ex- 
cessively worried. “ Geraldine, I’m the luckiest 
fellow in the world! I have such splendid 


THE ENEMY 


264 

friends, my business is good, and Tavy is positively 
the most beautiful, the most charming, the 
most ” 

“ I know all about it,” interrupted Geraldine, 
with a laugh which the caller did not stop to ana- 
lyze. If he had, he would have found the guile 
in it. “ Tommy says you are only taken back on 
approval.” 

“ That’s putting it.” He was quite cheerful 
about it. “ But that’s the same as unconditional, 
for there’s no danger of me doing anything to 
make them send me away. Why, Geraldine, for a 
girl like Tavy, there’s no chance that I could make 
a break ! She is the cleverest, the sweetest, the — * 
Say; hasn’t she the most wonderful eyes! ” 

Geraldine scarcely heard him. She had been 
pondering deeply, but when he paused she came out 
of her abstraction. 

“ Yes, hasn’t she? You’re not drinking at all, 
are you, Billy? ” 

“ Not whisky,” he replied, with a shake of his 
head. “ I’m afraid of it. If I were to get a taste 
of it, I’d drink all there is. Why, Geraldine, I’ve 
even wanted it! I’ve had to fight it; and if I 
ever get drunk again, I get back the ring for 
keeps.” 


THE ENEMY 265 

Again Geraldine fell into a brown study. Pres- 
ently she looked up brightly. 

“ By the way, Billy, I nearly forgot. I was go- 
ing to give a party for Tavy and you, when you 
interrupted the program. Suppose we make it’the 
seventeenth? ” 


CHAPTER XXV 


THE GAYEST NIGHT OF TAVY'S LIFE 

H OW can any one in the world be so flut- 
teringly happy as a Tavy Stuart, and con- 
tain it all? Why, this is her first real 
party; and such a party it is! The big Benning 
house blazes from every window and, wherever 
one goes there is the buzz of gay conversation, 
the sounds of gay laughter, the strains of gay 
music. Tavy wants to say that it is like a fairy- 
land, but that word scarcely seems adequate, for 
she has seen so many fairylands of late, and this 
is so much bigger, and grander, and finer, than 
everything she had ever dreamed ! 

Everybody is so nice to Tavy, too! There is 
always a dozen or more of the boys and girls 
around her, and their admiration is frank and sin- 
cere. Dimpled little Dolly Parsons has fallen 
dead in love with her fresh young beauty, with her 
delicately tinted complexion, and her luminous big 
dark eyes, and her black curls, all enchanted by 
the simple little white chiffon gown, with its sleeves 
266 


THE ENEMY 


267 

so absurdly short that they are scarcely any sleeves 
at all, just like puffs, revealing her beautifully ta- 
pering arms, and her smooth white shoulders, and 
her graceful neck. So dimpled little Dolly, who is 
fair and fairy-like, clings to Tavy from the min- 
ute they are introduced, and the two smallest 
young ladies at the party sweep everything before 
them, and are the center of a jolly group wherever! 
they move. Geraldine had planned a merry little 
trick. She had intended to post all her friends to 
surround Tavy throughout the evening so that the 
newly-engaged couple should not have a chance 
for a word with each other, but Tavy had arrived, 
with Billy, before she had time to carry out that 
idea, and now it is quite unnecessary; for Tavy 
had become instantly popular, and Geraldine 
should be highly pleased. In fact, she says that 
she is, as she passes the door of the dancing- 
room on the arm of Billy. 

“ I’m so proud to introduce Tavy to our friends. 
It hasn’t taken her long to win them.” 

If there is in this a covert hint that Tavy has 
been forward, or presumptuous, in charming all 
these friends of theirs so quickly, Billy is as uncon- 
scious of it as he is of Geraldine’s stunning 
Egyptian costume, old blue and gold, with a glitter- 
ing dark tiara in her burnished copper hair. It 


268 


THE ENEMY 


is the handsomest and most becoming gown at the 
party, and yet Tavy’s simple little frock of pearl 
white chiffon seems to be startingly effective. 
How fortunate for Tavy. 

“ Isn’t she stunning! ” says William Lane, not 
the least bit jealous that Tavy is constantly sur- 
rounded so that he cannot get near her; and clear 
across the room, as her big eyes look toward him, 
he sends her a wave which is so redolent of pride 
that the Egyptian young lady hurries him on past 
the door. She doesn’t have so many opportunities 
to enjoy Billy as she used. 

Here comes Tommy Tinkle, his familiar whim- 
sical grin much in evidence, and he edges into 
Tavy’s chattering bevy, and surveys her triumph 
in huge delight. 

“ My dance, Ringlets.” He has a nick-name 
for everybody, has Tommy. “ It’s the Mou- 
kowa,” and he and Tavy have their own sly laugh 
over this announcement; for Tommy and Billy 
have been up to the enchanted apartments every 
night for the past two weeks, teaching Tavy all the 
latest dances, and the Moukowa has been the most 
difficult to learn, because it is the ugliest and least 
graceful. 

“ Are you having a good time? ” asks Tommy, 
as he leads her out on the floor. 


THE ENEMY 


269 

“ Blissful ! ” she happily confesses, and a little 
fluttering sigh attests how profoundly she means 
that word. 

“ It is well,” approves Tommy. “ May you 
never be less happy than to-night is the wish of 
your true friend, T. Tinkle. To be continued in 
our next. Now watch that tricky skip step at the 
turn, for here we start to Moukow.” 

“ I suppose you’re not even touching pink 
lemonade, Billy.” It is Geraldine, in the supper- 
room, and she pauses at the buffet where stands a 
great bowl of purple punch. 

“ If you mean this stuff, I’m not fond enough 
of it to drink enough to hurt me,” laughs Billy. 
“ What’s in it?” 

“ Goodness only knows,” smiles Geraldine. 
“ Father made it himself, and it’s probably weird.” 
She hands him two of the cut glass cups, and he 
ladles the punch into them, hands Geraldine her 
glass, and tastes from his own. 

“ Practically a beverage, not a drink.” He 
tastes it again. fi ‘ Rather refreshing, though.” 
He empties his glass and sets it down, and, for just 
an instant, there is a flash in Geraldine’s eye. The 
drink is quite harmless, but it leaves a pleasant 
little tang on the tongue, which promotes thirst 
for more. And this is what Three-B Benning 


270 


THE ENEMY 


considers an ideal requisite in a punch for young 
folks’ parties, since gallons of it would not make 
a headache. 

What a busy Tavy! She is hurried from one 
place to another, and from one thought to another, 
and from one person to another, until she is all 
one white-chiffoned little bundle of happy bewilder- 
ment. Sam Langster parades her out through the 
gorgeous conservatory, and explains Benning’s rare 
collection. Sam is a fanatic on plants, and will 
talk for hours on that subject to any one who will 
listen. Dolly Parsons and Bert Hasselton rescue 
her from Sam’s botanical ecstasies, and they all 
wander into the library, where Tommy Tinkle is 
giving a profound imitation of Socrates, and issu- 
ing a series of such distorted epigrams of wisdom 
as to “ excite laughter in all beholders,” as he him- 
self gravely claims. He laughs at his own jokes, 
does Tommy, in this imitation, and elaborately 
points out their wit, and extracts more fun out of 
making fun of himself than he does out of making 
fun of anybody else, which, though not so digni- 
fied, is more kindly. 

Billy’s dance again, his second of the evening 
and he is to have one more, the last one. This 
is a happy moment! He is there at the first in- 
stant in which he can claim her; big, handsome 


THE ENEMY 


271 


Billy, by all odds the handsomest, and best, and 
noblest young man at the party. Tavy glows 
with pride as they march into the ball-room, and 
there is no expressing the pride which swells the 
bosom of Billy. Nothing like Tavy was ever 
created, and, as he looks down at her daintily 
flushed cheeks and her sparkling eyes, and at what 
those eyes tell him, he wonders again how he ever 
was so fortunate as to find, and woo, and win this 
marvelous creature! His arm slips around her 
waist, and holding her hand, he looks down at 
her fondly as the music strikes up. Why, it is an 
old-fashioned waltz, introduced into this evening’s 
program as a supreme novelty. Tavy knows that 
dance ' perfectly. Her mother taught it to her. 
Now Billy’s strong arm presses her to him, and 
they are floating in a maze of dreamy rapture. 
How lithe and flexible are the muscles of the arm 
which touches and holds her. How delicate is 
that pulse in the velvet-palm where it rests lightly 
on his shoulder. Every contact is a caress, every 
movement is a mutual exaltation; it is as if they 
two are one, and wafted, to the strains of ethereal 
music, upon zephyrs of celestial bliss ! The long 
lashes of Tavy are drooped over her eyes, and, for 
a moment, she is half swooning with the happiness 
and tremulous joy of this night of all nights. 


272 THE ENEMY 

Billy’s warm breath is on her hair, his low voice 
is in her ear. With an inspired tongue he is giv- 
ing her a list of all her own remarkable and dis- 
tinctive charms and perfections. He had no idea 
that he was so poetic, but how could a fellow help 
being poetic with such an inspiring girl as Tavy! 
Why, life is to be one endless waltz, like this, 
with no discord in the music, and no dimming of 
the lights, and no fatigue ! Clasped in this puls- 
ing embrace, they are to be buoyed on and on 
through eternities of such felicity, eyes to eyes, and 
heart to heart, and soul to soul ! 

Oh ! The music has stopped, the waltz is done, 
and now they are going into the supper-room, skip- 
ping across the floor, in an exhilaration of spirit 
which is such a delicious intoxication that it is a 
pity it cannot have a monopoly of stimulants. 

There are other laughing couples in the supper- 
room, and, in a moment more, Tavy is in the 
center of a crowd again. They all know each 
other, these friends of Billy’s and Tommy’s and 
Geraldine’s, but Tavy is a stranger, and exception- 
ally beautiful, and clever in a different little way, 
and the girl who is going to marry Billy; so they 
are all very nice to her. There is no formal sup- 
per at the party, for the dance is too important. 
There are just tables spread with everything in 


THE ENEMY 


273 


the world, and you walk in and help yourself, and 
a cast-iron butler, aided by a porcelain second but- 
ler, pours wine and ladles punch and serves ices 
and replenishes things in general, and it is very 
wonderful to wide-eyed Tavy, who neither tries 
to act as if she were used to all these magnificent 
things nor betrays any undue unfamiliarity; for 
Tavy has one gift from her mother which is far 
more precious than any jewel, and cannot be 
bought with gold, and is an open sesame in any 
company: breeding. Geraldine Benning takes 
particular note of that quality, and again there is 
the little flash of a glitter in her eye. 

The fun is never to end it seems. Here comes 
a dapper young man, led by Dolly Parsons, and 
introduced as Tavy’s next dancing partner. He 
dances superbly, though not with that fine strong 
ease of Billy. Nobody can dance like Billy. No- 
body can do anything like Billy; but, indeed, how 
could it be expected of them ! 

“ Get me some punch, Billy. I’m dreadfully 
thirsty to-night! ” Geraldine. It is their dance, 
but she has preferred to sit it out. She is nibbling 
at a peppermint wafer, and she has given him one. 
He has it crunched in his mouth now. 

“ All right, Sis,” and he starts away. 

“ I think I saw a pitcher of it on the tabourette 


THE ENEMY 


274 

behind the palms.” Geraldine drawls this lazily. 

They are in the alcove leading off from the con- 
servatory, a cozy little, dimly-lighted corner, with 
a thick rug on the floor, and easy tete-a-tete chairs. 
Billy brings in the tray with the tall pitcher and 
some glasses, and pours for her. He pours for 
himself. 

“ This beverage is almost like a drink,” he ob- 
serves. “ I’ll have to tell Three-B to serve a pep- 
permint wafer with each glass,” and Geraldine 
watches him curiously as he drinks it. 

“ Tavy is a pretty dancer. As soon as she is 
more familiar with the new steps, we’ll take her 
up to one of Mrs. Wilton’s affairs.” 

Billy does not notice the slight in that remark, 
but he does notice that Tavy has been mentioned, 
and that is enough for him, quite sufficient to chain 
his attention for any length of time; so they chat 
comfortably away, and Billy pours more of the 
punch out of the tall pitcher from behind the palms, 
and drinks it. With the third glass he smacks his 
lips, and considers. 

“ By George, I believe there’s the flavor of 
whisky in this stuff ! I haven’t tasted it for a 
month, but I could tell a drop of it in the ocean, 
I think. It leaves a peculiar taste on the tongue.” 


THE ENEMY 


275 

Geraldine veils her eyes, lest that glitter be 
seen. 

“ There couldn’t be much of it,” she smiles, as 
nonchalantly as if it were of no consequence. 
“ Father’s dance punch is too harmless to be in- 
teresting.” 

“ Whisky in it just the same.” Billy laughs, 
and drains his glass, and accepts the peppermint 
wafer which Geraldine hands him. The pepper- 
mint cannot altogether disguise the flavor which is 
in this pitcher of very special punch, but it can dis- 
guise the quantity! And the taste is on his 
tongue! 

The library is the favorite lounging-place for 
those who do not dance every number. B. B. 
Benning holds sway in here, during the latter half 
of the evening, and he is very much taken with 
Billy’s Tavy. She sits out a dance in the library 
with a tall-foreheaded young man who has over- 
done a sprained ankle, and quite a little crowd 
gathers. Three-B Benning makes room for Tavy 
on the bench beside him. He loves youth and 
laughter better than he loves old wine; and Tavy 
represents all three, considering the wine to be the 
wine of life. They are discussing a weighty sub- 
ject; boxing. 


27 6 


THE ENEMY 


“ They never come back,” declares pompous 
old Joseph Gandish, whose chest protrudes so far 
that he has to stoop to look down. “ It’s true of 
all the champions, and in all the sports.” 

Tavy glances at the high-panelled wainscoting, 
and the big, solemn pictures, and the beamed ceil- 
ing, and the rich conglomeration of rare and ex- 
pensive bronzes and other quaint things, all blended 
and subdued in the light from the great, low, red 
lamp shade, and she speculates on sometime hav- 
ing a chance to examine all these interesting things 
in detail. She has an inherited appreciation for 
beautiful pieces of handwork. 

“ Nobody ever comes back,” says Three-B Ben- 
ning, dropping his cigarette in an ash receiver. 
He has noted that the smoke follows Tavy. 

“ You said those very words one night at an 
uptown supper dance,” Mrs. Benning reminds him. 
Somehow, she always gravitates, by a sort of un- 
conscious instinct, into the same quarter of the 
house with Three-B. “We were talking about 
some funny drunkard whom Billy Lane brought 
from the Bowery to his apartments.” 

“Oh, yes!” Mrs. Mortissant, who is even 
gayer now than when she was Miriam Hasselton. 
“ Do you remember the atrocious caricature 
Tommy Tinkle drew of him; a blear-eyed, awful 


THE ENEMY 


277 

creature, peering through a tangle of matted hair 
and beard? His name was Bow-Wow.” 

Tommy Tinkle comes loafing in, on the name, 
and, startled, he catches the dawning look of hor- 
ror in Tavy’s face. 

“Whatever became of him, Tommy?” The 
heavy voice of Joseph Gandish. “ Nothing good, 
I’ll be bound.” 

“Bow-Wow? Oh, yes.” Tommy laughs, as 
one discovering a joke after an effort at memory. 
“ You were quite right, Gandish. He set fire to 
his bed, and Burke put him out and he’s never been 
seen, nor heard from, since.” He does not look 
at Tavy as he speaks, but he can hear an almost 
inaudible drawing in of the breath. 

Tavy rises presently, very quietly and inconspicu- 
ously. 

“ I haven’t been on the veranda, Tommy. It 
must be pretty out there,” and, as they pass into the 
fresh night air, he feels her hand tremble on his 
arm. She says nothing, but there is a trace of 
pallor on her cheeks, and her bosom flutters now 
and then ; and when the music starts and they come 
back into the ballroom, he is sure that the look 
in her eyes, as she leaves him for her dancing part- 
ner, is a look of gratitude. 

Bow-Wow! What a dreadful name for any 


THE ENEMY 


278 

human being to have borne, even a poor drunkard 
from the Bowery, who set fire to his bed, and was 
turned out, and was never heard of any more! 
Tavy wanted Billy. She wanted him all through 
that dance, and the next and the next, for some- 
how there had come just the faintest, far-off hint 
of sadness into this happiest night of her life. 
Bow-Wow! She could not get the name out of 
her mind ! 

She missed Billy so much during these last few 
dances. He was not even on the floor for her to 
look at; and, when she was worried, he was so 
comforting, with his strong, clean-cut features, 
and his clear eyes so full of understanding. 
It was a silly custom to make people dance 
with everybody, when they would so much 
rather dance with just one. Especially after a per- 
son became tired, it was so good to have a firm 
arm for support, and one the embrace of which 
could be courted rather than ignored. However, 
at last the program was nearly done, and the very 
next dance would be Billy’s ! She smiled, and her 
eyes brightened as she thought of that. 

It was Geraldine who joined her just before 
the last dance, and, quite naturally, Tavy asked her 
if she had seen Billy. 

“ Not for ages,” replied the cheerful voice of 


THE ENEMY 


279 


Geraldine. “ I’m sending out a call for the last 
dance, though, and we’ll have everybody from 
their hidden corners,” and, laughing, she went 
away. She was back in a minute or two, however, 
and immediately searched for her dear friend 
Tavy. 

They were together in the ballroom, amid quite 
a little group of Tavy’s new friends and admirers, 
when the hide-aways began to stroll in. 

She had no need to turn and watch Billy. She 
could tell all about him from the look on Tavy’s 
face ! Those delicately tinted oval cheeks had 
turned as white as the poor little chiffon frock, the 
same one she had worn the night Billy was late 
for the theater engagement. Tavy’s eyes widened 
with terror, and she stood as rigid as if she had 
been frozen into a beautiful snow statue! The 
glitter in Geraldine’s eyes was thoroughly unveiled 
now, as, noting the death-like silence and the 
shocked faces, she turned to survey Billy. His 
hair was rumpled down over his forehead, on his 
lips was a foolish grin, while out of his swaying 
body and his puffed face his familiar demon leered 
its red leer and snarled its red snarl. Billy was 
drunk ! 


CHAPTER XXVI 


GERALDINE LISTENS 

F OR a moment Tavy stood, weak, faint, sick; 
yet, without a tremor, she walked straight 
through that circle of staring eyes, and took 
the arm of the man she had promised to marry. 

“ We’re going home, Billy,” she said, and, 
though her voice was calm and low, it was strangely 
without flexibility. 

He looked down at her with his foolish smile, 
and patted the icy hand which lay on his arm. 

“ All right, Tavy.” His tongue was thick, but 
he was entirely willing. He was perfectly agree- 
able to anything she wanted; dear little Tavy! 
Most wonderful girl in the world! “ Good-night 
all,” he mouthed over his shoulder, and he 
stumbled slightly as he turned, stumbled and 
swayed; and into her body he carried the 
same sway, so it was as if she, too, were drunk; 
for no man and no woman who have made them- 
selves one, can escape each their share of the sins 
of the other. So it was that Tavy finished the 
280 


THE ENEMY 


281 


gayest night of her life, and quitted the ballroom 
floor of her first real party, leaving behind her half 
a hundred pitying witnesses of her shame ! 

Three-B Benning, Tommy Tinkle and Geral- 
dine followed swiftly to the door. 

“ We can’t let her go home with him,” said 
Tommy to Benning as they converged. 

“Certainly not!” Benning was furious. 
“ We’ll see the girl home in my car.” 

Tommy nodded his head with a sharp jerk. 

“ Good. I’ll take Billy to the club.” 

“Take him to the devil! Any place so the 
beast gets out of my house! And he can’t come 
back; ever! Tell him that when he wakes up.” 

Geraldine had passed them, and overtook Tavy 
and Billy just ahead in the hall. 

“ I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” she sympa- 
thized, slipping her arm through the girl’s. “ You 
mustn’t attempt to go with Billy. We’ll keep him 
for the night, and we’ll take you home.” 

Tavy turned to her with cold eyes. 

“ I’m going with Billy,” was all she said, and 
the tone was so quiet in its despair that it must have 
melted a heart of ice; but there is no ice in the 
heart of a jealous woman. There is only fire, 
that burns and destroys. 


282 


THE ENEMY 


Billy became conscious that a third party was 
with them. Oh ! Geraldine. 

“ Great punch, Sis,” he told her, with a clumsy 
laugh. “ Whisky in it, though. Tell a drop of it 
in the ocean. Taste on the tongue, you know. 
Say, Benning! ” He looked back. He felt sure 
he had heard Benning’s voice, but Three-B was 
gone for his hat and coat. Only Tommy was 
there, close behind them; good old Tommy. 
“ Hello, Tommy. Going to quit you early. 
Little girl’s tired,” and again he patted the icy 
hand which clung to him. 

“ That’s right, Billy,” soothed Tommy, and, 
setting Geraldine aside with a brusqueness which 
made her stare, he led Billy and Tavy to the little 
ante-room just off the vestibule. “ Wait just a 
minute, please. I’m going home with you.” 

“ Thank you, Tommy.” Her mind was in a 
whirl. She was glad to be alone for a few mo- 
ments. She had many things to decide. Billy 
followed her into the ante-room. He turned, as if 
to take her in his arms, but she shuddered and 
walked away to the window, and he, feeling some- 
thing uncomprisingly stiff about her, sat down. 
He was tired anyhow. 

Tommy, still in the doorway, noted the drowsy 


THE ENEMY 283 

eyes of his friend with satisfaction, then he re- 
turned to Geraldine. 

“ Come with me. I want to talk with you.” 
It was an order, the first one Tommy Tinkle had 
ever given to a woman. 

Geraldine stared at him in astonishment, and 
then her eyes flashed with resentment. She low- 
ered them as she met his steady gaze. There was 
contempt in it. A group of guests came down 
the hall with Mrs. Benning, but without gayety. 
The party was ending most uncomfortably. Ger- 
aldine walked with Tommy through the conserva- 
tory and into the cozy alcove. He wheeled 
abruptly to her. 

“Now what have you done?” 

She glared at him defiantly, but the color was 
receding from her cheeks. 

“ I don’t understand you.” 

“ Yes, you do! ” His tone was fiercely tense. 
“ You spiked Billy’s punch ! There was no whisky 
in that I drank. Why did you do it? ” 

“ This is an outrage ! ” Geraldine’s eyes now 
were blazing straight into his. She held them 
there without deviation, but her cheeks were pale. 
“ I will not listen to such insult! ” 

“You will!” He stepped to the tall pitcher 


284 


THE ENEMY 


which still stood on the tabourette, and picked up 
one of the used glasses and smelled it. “ There’s 
whisky in this, and you were in here with Billy. 
I saw you. I’ve told you more than once, since 
Billy started to take hold of himself, that if he 
got a taste of whisky he was gone. Why did 
you do this ? ” 

“Do you realize what you’re saying to me! 
Do you know that ” 

“ Don’t lie ! ” The tone of Tommy rose in such 
hot anger that it startled her into silence. “ If 
you utter another word of denial, I’ll send for 
your father and show him this punch!” and he 
reached for the push button. 

“ Tommy! ” At last, in that frantically fright- 
ened cry, he had a confession, and she realized it 
as well as he. She sank into a chair and covered 
her face with her hands. 

“ I’ll tell you why you did it! You knew that 
if Billy ever got drunk again it would break his en- 
gagement with Miss Stuart; permanently. It’s 
the rottenest thing I ever heard of! A Bowery 
thief has no worse morals. Sit still, I tell you: 
you’re going to listen; not talk! ” This was 
Tommy Tinkle! good old Tommy, who had 
fetched and carried, and sat up and barked, and 
jumped through hoops, for years. “ Why did 


THE ENEMY 


285 

you do this? Because you loved Billy? No! I 
thought maybe you did at first; so I wiped myself 
out. If I could make you and Billy happy I’d 
have some pay for what I had lost, for I loved you 
myself. I have loved you all my life ; but it didn’t 
make any difference to you ; nothing did. You only 
made up your mind to have Billy because you didn’t 
want to lose one of the dangles on your bracelet. 
You hated this girl because Billy raved about her 
beauty, and forgot to mention yours. You hated 
her because Billy loved her, and you wanted Billy 
to love you, as you wanted me to love you. The 
thought that love should have any return never 
entered into your cramped and starved little heart. 
So, just to please your contemptible vanity, you 
were perfectly willing to wreck the entire future 
happiness of two fine young people, spoil their en- 
tire lives ! Take down your hands. Look at me. 
Look up, I say ! ” 

Geraldine was astounded to find herself obeying. 
It was the first time in all her experience that any 
one had given her crisp and decisive commands. 
She was dazed that a stronger will than her own 
had taken control of her. 

“ Tommy, I ” 

“ I’m not through yet. You’ve reached the end 
of your rottenness. Come on ! ” 


286 


THE ENEMY 


He helped her up. She was so bewildered that 
she could not make up her mind whether to be 
docile or rebel ; but she went with him. 

“ We’re going to do what we can to square 
Billy with Tavy,” he explained, as he led the way 
out. 

“How?” Her voice was meek and humble. 
She felt that she should be resentful to Tommy, 
but somehow she could not manage it. She had 
had her first whipping, and the hurt was a relief ! 

“ We’re going to explain to Tavy right now that 
you spiked Billy’s punch,” and without allowing 
any time for a refusal of this drastic plan, he 
hurried her straight into the little ante-room. 

On the threshold he stopped abruptly, just as 
Geraldine’s father, coated and hatted, came down 
the hall. 

The room was empty! 


CHAPTER XXVII 


THE DAWN OF A NEW DAY 

“T^ ENNINGS’?” The voice of Mrs. 

Stuart was very pleasant. She did not 
want to be a bother, so she concealed 
the worry which was beginning to grow on her. 

“ Yes, ma’am.” A sleepy voice at the other end 
of the wire ! 

“Has Mr. Lane left?” She was apologetic. 
Tavy must be having a delightful time to be so 
late, but really one couldn’t help worrying. It was 
because Tavy had never attended a regular party 
before, she supposed. Mrs. Stuart was not used 
to being alone. 

“ Mr. Lane has gone home, ma’am. The party 
broke up two hours ago. Everybody’s gone.” 

“ Thank you.” Mrs. Stuart could scarcely pro- 
nounce the words, and when she had hung up the 
receiver, she went to the window and opened it, 
with an instinctive need for cooling air. 

Two hours ago! It was scarcely more than a 
forty minute ride out to the Bennings’. There 
287 


288 


THE ENEMY 


had been an accident! She was sure of it. That 
had been Tavy’s first certainty the night when Billy 
was late for the theater. It is every woman’s first 
certainty. 

Well, what could she do about it? Wait! 
Nothing else, not another thing which she could 
do; so she waited, and the dark river which had 
flowed for countless ages past the spot where she 
brooded out into the night, flowed on and on, its 
surface streaked with snake-like swirls of oily black 
and shimmering light. It was maddeningly mo- 
notonous, the river, as it carried its inexhaustible 
flood of water endlessly down to the ocean. Even 
the spectral lights, hung high on mast tops, were 
monotonous as they rode slowly down with the 
stream. The ticking of the little Dresden clock 
on the gray mantelpiece was monotonous, but none 
of these things was so wearisome as just waiting, 
while anything and everything might be happen- 
ing out there in the dark world! 

She was well-nigh frantic at four o’clock, but 
at that hour the elevator clicked, and she was at 
the door ! Not Tavy, tired, but flushed and wide- 
eyed, and full of happiness of her triumph. Not 
Billy, tall and smiling, and proud, that he had 
taken away so precious a charge and returned that 


THE ENEMY 289 

charge in safety. Tommy Tinkle and Geraldine 
Benning! 

“ Where’s Tavy? ” Mrs. Stuart’s voice had a 
shrill break in it. “There hasn’t been an acci- 
dent?” 

“ Not to Tavy.” Tommy’s tone was grave. 
“ Billy had a slight accident.” 

She knew! Knew the whole bitter truth. 

“ Where’s Tavy? ” The ashes had come back 
to her face, to her voice, to her eyes. 

“ With Billy.” No whimsicality now in 
Tommy. “ She slipped away with him, to take 
care of him I think. We’ve been hunting them 
for two hours, rather aimlessly. Mr. Benning is 
down in the car, asleep. I’ve formed a theory. 
Tavy is driving about some place with Billy until,” 
Tommy paused for a word, “ until he feels better.” 

Mrs. Stuart motioned them to chairs, but she 
did not sit down. 

“ He was drunk again ! ” Nothing can express 
the bitter contempt she laid upon that word. “ Is 
there no way to find them? ” 

“ Only by luck,” Tommy told her. “ I’ve 
telephoned to every place with which Billy might 
be in communication; but no one’s heard of him.” 

Mrs. Stuart walked up and down the floor, 


290 


THE ENEMY 


her nails clenched into her palms. Her face was 
so colorless that her very hair seemed to be turning 
grayer. 

“ It is perhaps for the best,” she finally decided, 
extracting what crumb of comfort she could out 
of that. “ It would have happened sooner or 
later anyhow, and now it is over.” 

Tommy turned sharply to Geraldine. “ Shall 
I tell her, or will you? ” 

“ Tell me what? ” She stopped abruptly, and 
fastened her gaze not upon Tommy, but upon Ger- 
aldine. The girl started to cry, and in Mrs. 
Stuart’s eyes there came a glow. 

“ Out with it, Geraldine,” sternly commanded 
Tommy. 

Then the whole miserable confession, between 
sobs and tears and pleas for forgiveness; and, as 
Geraldine proceeded, the glow in the eyes of Jean 
Stuart burst into flame. 

“And you did this to my girl!” she cried. 
“ You, who have everything, did this to my Tavy, 
who has never harmed any living creature ! ” She 
stood quivering with anger, and there rose in her, 
for the first time in her gentle life, a tigerish lust. 

Tommy Tinkle, who could see through words 
and faces, and even thoughts, raised Geraldine 
from her chair and led her outside, in her Egyptian 


THE ENEMY 


291 

costume, and came back to Mrs. Stuart for a mo- 
ment. 

“ Would you rather I’d remain here with you, 
or shall I go out again and see if I can find them? ” 

“Bring me Tavy! ” she begged. “I want 
her! ” 

The black river flowed on and on past the win- 
dows, its current streaked with monotonous snake- 
like swirls of oily black and shimmering white. 
The little Dresden clock ticked monotonously 
away, snipping off its tiny bits of time and tossing 
them back into eternity. The stars paled from 
their long vigil of the night, and still Jean Stuart 
did everything that she could do ; she waited ! 

Was there no way that she could reach out 
through the night, and take her daughter by the 
hand and draw her home? Was there no way 
that she could see through the intervening walls 
and rest her eyes upon everything she had in the 
world? Was there no way in which she could cast 
a thought upon the insensate air, and glean knowl- 
edge in return? Was there no quarter to which 
she could turn for help, for news, for even the 
sound of a human voice? She could wait no 
longer ! She must take part in something active ! 
If she were only to go down on the Drive and 
over into the next street, to look she would feel 


292 


THE ENEMY 


that she was doing something, no matter how 
futile, toward the ending of this intolerable sus- 
pense. What mad freak might a drunken man 
take into his mind, into what trouble might he 
not plunge, into what desperate surroundings 
might he not take Tavy! Her hand was on the 
doorknob, with a frantic impulse to rush out, she 
knew not where, and stop what impending danger 
there might be; but a new thought stayed her hand. 
Suppose Tavy should come home and not find her 
there? No, she must watch the endless sweep of 
the river, and confine herself to that dreary task 
which has been the lot of women since the dawning 
of time, to wait ! 

She was thankful, as she stood in the bay, that 
she had not succumbed to her insane impulse to 
leave the room ; for it occurred to her, for the first 
time, that at any moment Tavy might telephone. 
She realized now, that, all through the long hours, 
her ears had been strained for the first sound of 
that bell. 

Suddenly she held up her handkerchief and 
looked at it. She had been tearing it to shreds 
without knowing it. She must do something, or 
she would go mad! The telephone; that was her 
only connection with humanity. With sudden de- 
cision, she went to it and called up Billy’s number. 


THE ENEMY 


293 


It was not the voice of Burke who answered. 
She knew his broad accents, for she had talked 
with him two or three times when she had sent 
trifling little messages for Tavy. It was an older 
voice, but it was an eager and an alert one, with no 
sleep in it; Mr. Doe, no doubt, Billy’s partner. 
She had heard something of him. 

“ Yes, this is Mr. Lane’s.” 

“ Has he come home? ” 

“ Not yet, madam.” 

“ Oh.” It was a sigh of disappointment, a 
confession of inadequacy, an appeal. “ Thank 
you.” 

That was all, and Harrison Stuart leaned against 
the wall, trembling. He had heard her voice! 
Jean’s voice! He knew it as well as if he had 
talked with her but yesterday, for her life had not 
known the terrific changes of his. He paced the 
floor. Jean! She was alone up there, worried, 
sick, frantic with anxiety, with desperate misgiv- 
ings for the safety of her daughter; and his! 
As he had waited, since a reasonable hour for 
Billy’s arrival at home, so she had waited. As her 
frantic imagination had devised one frightening 
picture after another, so his imagination had been 
at work with its apprehensions. Scarcely two 
miles apart, they had shared the same solicitude, 


294 


THE ENEMY 


the same heartache, the same anguish through all 
the dreary, lagging minutes of that long night; 
and she had no one to comfort her. Jean! He 
had heard her voice, her dear voice ! 

Dawn. The swirls of oily black on the surface 
of the never-ceasing river have begun to merge in 
the swirls of shimmering white, and now a lumi- 
nous grayness begins to obliterate them both. The 
stars in the sky are paling fast. In the west, one 
low-lying cloud, by some magic of reflection, 
catches the tinge of dull pink, and the lights on the 
Drive, and the lights in the little enchanted parlor, 
have turned a sickly yellow. Over the earth there 
comes that chill which is the shudder of the uni- 
verse at awakening. Dull day is breaking, and 
bringing with it its always new burden of sorrow 
and of tears; happiness for some, perhaps, but not 
for women who wait. 

At last! Just as the low-lying cloud loses its 
touch of pink and dulls to the gray in which this 
morning is to shroud itself, there comes a click 
of the elevator ! Again she is at the door, scarce 
knowing how she arrives there; but it is not Tavy, 
haggard and worn from her watch of the night, 
with Billy repentant and humble and ugly with his 
sin. It is a tall, slender, elderly gentleman with 


THE ENEMY 


295 

a silver Vandyke, and, when he removes his hat, 
a crop of waving white hair. 

How strangely the caller stares! He stands 
motionless ! He tries to speak ! In the dark gray 
eyes there is a swiftly gathering moisture, and, for 
some unaccountable reason, she begins to tremble ! 
Her hands grope flutteringly, then a great flood of 
light leaps up in her, and they are in each other’s 
arms, the tears of love blinding their eyes. 

Jean! Oh, thou good and faithful Jean! 
Thou true Jean! Thou Jean that has suffered, 
and borne, and waited! Oh, may all the bless- 
ings of Heaven and earth be thine, thou Jean! 
May there be happiness enough, in the days yet to 
come, to efface, in part, thy misery in the weary 
years that are gone! Jean! Jean! 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


HAPPINESS IS A SELFISH PLEASURE 

W HAT should she do with him; that is, 
just now? Tavy studied Billy in dull 
silence, as he sat huddled in the cor- 
ner of the car, asleep. Her repugnance of him 
had passed. He had not only offended her deli- 
cacy, but he had destroyed it, for the time being; 
and now she calmly took up this sordid, practical 
question. They were well into the city, by this 
time, so she told the chauffeur to drive around the 
Park until she gave him further orders. 

She had much to deliberate; for, on what she 
did with Billy now, might depend what she did 
with him in the future. 

Let her look conditions squarely in the face. 
First of all, she had no illusions left about her love 
being able to hold Billy safe against his enemy. 
Her mother and father had both been right. 
Through life, Billy might expect to meet this foe 
at any unforeseen turn, and be beaten by it, and 
296 


THE ENEMY 


297 

kicked aside with disdain, a helpless, formless, 
brainless — what? — Bow-Wow ! 

That was her first sob, that thought. Tommy 
had been most kind, but he had not deceived her. 
They were all the same ; Bow-Wow, and John Doe, 
and Harrison Stuart; and her father! She could 
give way to weeping now, for she was all alone 
beneath the stars and the bending trees, all, all 
alone; for the one who could best comfort her 
in any affliction, whose strong arm should be her 
support, whose tender sympathy should be her 
stay, was huddled there in the corner, locked by 
numbness in that lax body which could only con- 
tain Billy when it was upright. She could weep 
now, but it was not the girl Tavy who wept; it 
was the woman Tavy. The girl Tavy was gone, 
never to return. 

Oh, Billy, Billy! Torn by her need of comfort 
and help, she reached out and put her hand upon 
him, even leaned over and put her head upon his 
shoulder. He breathed heavily, and mumbled 
something in his sleep, and the shoulder of the 
disturbed animal which slumbered there in stupor, 
shrugged in impatience at the weight which 
cramped it. It was the shoulder of a stranger 
upon which she leaned, and she straightened 
swiftly, shocked, but not hurt. No, it was too 


THE ENEMY 


298 

late to be hurt. That had been done, and the 
wound had been so deep, so vital, that no other 
cut could add to her suffering. 

Let her dry her tears, let her raise her head, 
let her be strong, for she needed strength, she 
who had thought, on that afternoon when Billy 
had first taken her into his arms, that her days of 
battle were done, since here was a champion who 
would wage every warfare for them both; and now 
her champion, disarmed and dishonored, huddled 
there in the corner, without a hand to raise in her 
defense. 

Let her dry her tears and straighten her head, 
and fold her hands together calmly; for now she 
must approach another grave problem; herself. 
What of her love? It was given. She knew 
that, now, but the knowledge brought her no joy. 
There is this strange thing about the love of such 
simple natures as Tavy’s and Jean’s; it can be cov- 
ered with debris of every offending sort, but, scrape 
amid the refuse, and it is always there. It will 
survive abuse, it will survive anything. She de- 
spised that love, in this black hour, with only the 
company of the cold stars and the bending trees 
and the lonely lights which shimmered in the lake. 
She would have plucked it from her, if she could, 
but she realized the futility of that even while she 


THE ENEMY 


299 


reasoned with herself; and the knowledge was a 
humiliation to her, as if in herself there was some- 
thing of baseness, as if she herself were doing 
something, in loving Billy, which was a part of this 
degradation he had suffered. It was incredible 
that in her there was still a spark of fondness for 
this huddled object, the touch of which had re- 
pulsed her, this creature which breathed so heavily 
in its stupid slumber. Yet she was clear-eyed 
enough, truthful enough, and unsmirched enough 
of soul to realize, and admit, that the spark was 
still there. Very well, then, let her say it, let her 
acknowledge it, to her shame. She had given her 
love, and it could not be recalled. Love, which 
exists, not to be beaconed or dismissed at will. 
What next? Oh, Billy, Billy! 

What next? That was a harder problem than 
any, a problem she should not have had to face. 
Why, she was only a little Tavy. That very night 
she had been a girl, in her dainty little white chiffon 
frock, with the flush of pleasure in her cheeks, 
with the light of merriment in her eyes, with imps 
of mischief twinkling in her glossy black curls. 
Now, suddenly, she was old, with the burden of 
womanhood heavy upon her soul. She had joined 
the ranks of them who have borne the weight of 
all the world’s woes since the world began; and 


3 °° 


THE ENEMY 


that Tavy was not crushed by the intolerable 
weight is the reason the world has lasted. 

What next? Not every love finds fruition. 
There are loves which are the better for stifling. 
There wander through the world a countless army 
of silent women who have not dared love where 
they would, and so have paid the price of dwell- 
ing apart, but have completed. Happiness ? Pos- 
sibly not; but self-respect, yes. For a long time 
she pondered that, while she passed between the 
swaying branches down the west drive and up the 
east drive, and across by the ghostly fountain 
splashing away in its great basin below, its pearl- 
like drops leaping up to catch the light of the 
stars, and dropping in glee, after their confine- 
ment, to rush away on a long, long journey they 
knew not where. They were free, those drops in 
the fountain, free to swirl and eddy and glisten, 
and tumble over rocks and splash up in foam and 
spray. Free ! 

Free? There is no such thing as freedom. 
Those drops in the fountain were forced through 
a dark pipe, and their channels were made for 
them; and so are the channels made for human life. 
Even let her decide to send Billy away forever, and, 
cramping her love for him so that it should allow 
other things to grow in her heart, her future 


THE ENEMY 


3 01 


course was forced upon her. Where was happi- 
ness? Where was it kept hidden? There had 
been happiness in her past, though she had scarcely 
noticed it at the time, but searching through every 
nook and cranny of her future, she could not find 
it again. She could not be happy if she married 
Billy. She could not be happy if she did not. 
Very well, then, let her say that there was no hap- 
piness for her, except in the joy which she might 
bring into the lives of others, except as she carried 
her sorrow in cheerfulness, and with a smile of 
patience on her lips and in her eyes; the smile of 
Jean. How well she understood it now. Yes, she 
would say it calmly and with cheerful patience, here 
under the far-off, blue, star-studded vault of the 
sky; there was no happiness for her. What next? 

As Tavy saw the gray shadow of that “ next ” 
moving before her, she smiled the smile which is 
never seen but at the summit of the pyre. Duty. 
And so she came, at last, to the allotted pleasure 
of all the women of Jean Stuart’s strain. From 
mother to daughter, through a long race, had de- 
scended that one great privilege of self-sacrifice; 
only Tavy had found it young, so young that she 
had not yet had her youth, only her girlhood. 
She was thankful, now, for the gorgeous party at 
the Bennings’, even though it had resulted in this 


302 


THE ENEMY 


disaster. For once she had seen the glitter of the 
lights, had heard the languor of the music, had 
tasted the joy of youthful happiness, before she 
grew old, and had set upon her raven curls the un- 
burnished and unglittering crown of duty. Very 
well, then, let it be her duty. Happiness was but 
a selfish pleasure, after all. 

Where did her duty lie? Not to herself. To 
her mother; the mother who had suffered so many 
years in sweet patience, who had worn her crown 
of duty until its lusterless gray had spread into her 
hair? Yes, much of her duty was there. And to 
her father; the father who had come back from 
the dead. They would have each other, the father 
and mother, and they would be so busy in scraping 
together the crumbs of happiness which were still 
left to them, that not much self-sacrifice would be 
required of Jean. Where else lay her duty? To 
Billy? He moaned in his torpid slumber. His 
head hung far forward so that his collar impeded 
his breathing, but his body was so numb that it 
only knew it was uncomfortable; so it moaned! 
She lifted his head and rested it back against the 
cushion. It lopped there a moment, and settled 
in a corner. What was her duty to Billy? Three 
times she passed the fountain, still leaping at the 
stars, and splashing with weird softness into the 


THE ENEMY 


303 


great basin. Three times she passed the gray 
stone panther on the bank, and the overhanging 
rocks at the head of the park, and the gaunt, dark 
hotels at its lower end, and still she was revolving 
over and over in her mind, as if it were some 
monotonous Sphynx-like enigma which had no an- 
swer; what was her duty to Billy? 

Dawn. Over the earth there came that chill 
which is the shudder of the universe at awakening. 
Out of the east stole long gray fingers of light, 
and the stars paled, as if their eyes were dim and 
sleepy from their long vigil of the night; the foun- 
tain splashed in its pool with a metallic ring, as 
if now it must wake to work, and hammer out the 
hard prosaic fancies of the day rather than the soft 
poetry of the night; and the lump which huddled 
in the corner of the cushions, stirred, and suddenly 
sat bolt upright, and was Billy! 

There was a cold sensation on one side of his 
face. It had been pillowed upon something 
warm; Tavy’s shoulder. She was just removing 
her cramped arm from about him. Oh, yes! 
They were coming home from the Bennings’. 
Great party! How late was it? All this while 
he was blinking his eyes and readjusting himself to 
life. But Tavy’s face! How drawn it was, how 
pale, how hollow her eyes ! 


304 


THE ENEMY 


“Tavy!” With a sudden flood of memory, 
he realized what he had done; and hideous con- 
trition gripped him. 

“ Yes, Billy.” The dead voice, but still with 
infinite sweetness in it, the sweetness of them who 
have been through the fires, and have been purified 
thereby of all their dross. 

“Tavy! Tavy!” There was something 
came in his throat which choked his utterance, but 
he talked above it. He humbled himself in deep 
abjectness; he poured forth all his regret, all his 
grief, all his compassion that he had thrust again 
this shame upon her ; but his emotion stirred noth- 
ing in her, though she put her hand in his and 
smiled forgivingly upon him. Then he realized 
that the end of the road had come,, that he must 
take back his ring, that he must keep his word, 
that he must not plead for reinstatement, but must 
go away, so that she might forget him, and the 
pain he had brought her. 

“ No, Billy.” Her voice was low and calm. 
She had fought out the answer to her enigma, 
while the dark sky paled to the dawn and the stars 
dimmed. “ I am going to marry you. I have 
work to do in the world, some reason for being 
here; and that is it. You need me.” 

This again overwhelmed him. He could not 


THE ENEMY 


305 


believe that she knew what she proposed. He 
could not permit her to make the sacrifice. He 
could not promise, even to himself, that he was 
safe ! 

“ You don’t understand, Billy,” she quietly told 
him, and there was that in her strength, in her 
immense superiority over him, in the towering of 
her soul into heights where he could not follow, 
which awed him into silence. “ I did not mean 
that you need me to keep you from this ; but that 
you need me when you have done this.” She 
was thoughtful for a moment, gathering up the 
threads of her still unfinished reverie. “ We must 
drive around the Park again. I have not yet de- 
cided whether to see mother before or after we 
are married.” 


CHAPTER XXIX 


HAM AND EGGS! 

N O one heard the click of the elevator, no 
one heard the hesitant footsteps in the 
hall; for the long-separated husband and 
wife now sat in the window, near the dawn, all 
their story told; and they were hand in hand. 
The low-lying gray cloud had repented of its dull- 
ness at the sight of the ecstasy in their faces, and 
had snatched from the eastern sky a perfect riot 
of carmine glory. 

At the ring of the bell, however, they hurried 
to the door, and there, at last, was Tavy, her poor 
little white chiffon frock damp and wilted ; and in 
her face was the grayness of the dawn, in her eyes 
the deadness of the morning stars. 

“Daddy!” cried the weary voice, and she 
sprang into his arms; then, after an embrace of 
but a second, she turned to her mother and drew 
her to them, and bound them together in her hun- 
gry clasp, and wept. 

“ Where is Billy? ” asked her father, as soon as 
306 


THE ENEMY 


307 

she was calm; and he stepped out into the hall. 
No Billy was there ! 

“ He went home,” explained Tavy, dropping 
listlessly into a chair. “ I would not let him come 
up with me.” 

“ Where have you been all night?” Jean. 
Only tenderness in that question, tenderness and 
love. 

“ In the Park, driving.” A little hesitation. 
“ Billy — was drunk. I kept him out until he 
woke up, sober. I meant to marry him to-day; 
but he refused.” 

“Thank God!” Her father’s tone was like 
one in grateful prayer. He came to her, Jean’s 
hand in his. “ We must send for Billy,” and, with 
infinite compassion, they sat beside her on the win- 
dow seat. 

“ I do not want him.” Still the dead voice. 
“ I offered him my life.” Then she poured out 
the whole story of her drive in the Park, of the 
steps by which she had arrived at her decision of 
self-sacrifice; and Mrs. Stuart’s heart sank as she 
looked at her daughter, for where her little girl 
had sat, only the evening before, there was now a 
woman, the director of her own destiny, the arbiter 
of her own fate, and the bearer, God help her, of 
her own burdens ! 


3°8 


THE ENEMY 


“ You will love Billy more for this,” her father 
gently told her. “ No good man could accept a 
gift of which he was so unworthy. And Billy 
is good.” He told them the goodness of Billy, 
of all that he had done for Harrison Stuart, and 
as he recounted that tale of sympathy and kindli- 
ness and whole-hearted helpfulness, Tavy’s head 
came up and some of the dullness left her eyes. 

“ Moreover, Billy’s accident is not to be counted 
against him this time.” Jean Stuart, and her 
voice had a crisp crackle in it. “ He was tricked 
into it ! The punch he drank was made especially 
for him. There was whisky in it, and it was put 
there by Geraldine Benning!” The crackle in 
Jean Stuart’s voice became still more crisp. “ She 
made Billy drunk, deliberately to break his engage- 
ment with you! She sat in that chair, at four 
o’clock this morning, and confessed it all, and 
Tommy Tinkle stood over her and made her tell 
me! Now, through her jealousy, she’s lost both 
Billy and Tommy!” Every line in her face, 
every lash on her eyelids, every hair on her head, 
showed that she was glad of it ! 

The effect on Tavy was magical; at first, the in- 
credulous horror of what Geraldine had done ; and 
then the joyful realization that Billy had not for- 
feited his second chance; and then the thought that 


THE ENEMY 


309 


she wanted him ! She looked toward the ’phone, 
but her father was already there, and calling for 
Billy. 

Yes, he was at home, and frantically worried be- 
cause Hal was missing. Would Billy come up 
to the enchanted parlor, and take part in the fam- 
ily re-union? Would he! It seemed almost no 
time until they heard a whizzing noise far down 
the Drive, and then he was there ! 

“ Come in,” invited Harrison Stuart with a 
queer sense upon him of playing master in a house 
where he had small right. 

It was a very humble Billy, even though a very 
joyful one, who came into the enchanted pink and 
gray parlor, and a very surprised and thankful one 
when he found that his pledge was not considered 
broken. 

“ I’m the happiest man alive ! ” he said with a 
choking voice, as he stood, his arm about Tavy, 
and saw that there was nothing but affection for 
him in those three beloved faces. 

“ Shoulder to shoulder, Billy, side by side ! ” 
encouraged Stuart. “We are still on our way, 
and, when we reach the end of our probation, we’ll 
come up here together and claim our reward; not 
until then.” 

Jean Stuart turned to him in surprise, and her 


3 IQ 


THE ENEMY 


hands fluttered a little way towards him, then she 
dropped them at her side. 

“ You’re not going to stay? ” she asked, with 
a catch in her voice. 

“ Not yet, Jean.” How straightly his head was 
poised, with what pride his shoulders were 
squared. “ I have six months in which to prove 
my right to wear the name of Harrison Stuart.” 

The lips of Jean twitched piteously, but she 
looked at her daughter, where Tavy stood by 
Billy’s chair, and she conquered the great longing 
which welled up in her. It did not seem possible 
that he should go, now that he had come to her 
after all these years; but Tavy must be happy, and 
perhaps these two men could fight out their long, 
hard battle together better than they could apart. 
Once more Jean Stuart took up her privilege of 
self-sacrifice; and she put both her hands on her 
husband’s shoulders. 

“ If you think that will be for the best, dear, 
then it shall be as you say.” 

“ Why, it won’t be a separation, Jean.” He 
kissed her, and held her at his side. “ We are 
going to come courting every evening, and we’ll 
show you what two fine young men you have. 
Eh, Billy?” 

Billy shook hands with him. He shook hands 


THE ENEMY 


3 ” 


with everybody. He did not feel much like talk- 
ing just now, but he fairly ached to shake hands. 
His good fortune was too overwhelming to be true, 
and it rather had the effect of choking him; and 
when Mummy Stuart, patting his hand and looking 
into his eyes with a fondness which it was hard 
to have to conceal, said: “You’ve been a good 
Billy to him,” Billy was compelled to hastily ex- 
cuse himself, and went into the dining-room alone, 
to inspect the gold fish. 

What a world of reminiscence there was, by 
and by, when everybody was calmed down, and 
they could talk without emotion. Nearly every- 
thing anybody said reminded somebody of some- 
thing which started in a laugh and might have 
ebbed in a tear, except that there were so many 
other things to come; as for instance: 

“ Now we can have Daddy at the theater with 
us ! Has he told you, Mummy, how he used to sit 
back under the balcony, with Billy’s opera glasses, 
and watch nothing but us through the entire 
play?” 

Then all that had to be told; and how Billy had 
visited every Stuart in the city before he found 
them; and how Hal had made Billy describe every- 
thing they wore and every article in the room, 
after that first visit; and how Billy had made 


312 


THE ENEMY 


fraudulent excuses to come again, first, so he could 
tell Hal more about them, and then so he could 
see Tavy; and how Hal had stood out in the cold 
rain and watched the windows of the house in 
pleasant old Vanheuster Square; and the intricate 
schemes which had been devised to get money to 
them; and Billy’s invention of the poor little 
daughter who died so horribly in the theater fire ; 
and an excited jumble of many other things! Of 
course the secret popped out about the house which 
was being selected for the home-coming of the 
royal princess! 

It was not to be such a gray day, after all. 
The misty sky was clearing, as the sun came up, 
and the river, which had been so black, was dancing 
and glinting with countless sparkling wavelets. 
The laugh of Tavy came back, and even Jean 
laughed with a note in her voice which had not been 
heard there for many, many years; and the men 
raised in spirits as they saw they had made these 
two women happy once more. But the two 
women, looking into each other’s eyes, saw there 
what the men could not see; the shadow of the 
specter which was never to disappear ! 

By and by came an apple-faced little German 
maid who slept out, and her china-blue eyes wid- 
ened in astonishment, as she found there, so early 


THE ENEMY 


3i3 


in the morning, a dignified elderly gentleman with 
a silver Vandyke and waving white hair, and Billy 
Lane! The sight of the china-eyed maid gave 
Mrs. Stuart a happy idea. She suggested break- 
fast, and her guests brightened visibly. 

By and by, again, there was a strange moment, 
when these four sat down to the table together 
for the first time ; but, in a few minutes, they were 
quite a little family party, much as if they had all 
belonged together for a long, long time. If the 
shadow of the specters were still in the eyes of 
Tavy and Jean, there was nevertheless a semblance 
of happiness, much as good as the real article, in 
the little white and tan dining-room. It was so 
good to be together, so inexpressibly good ! 

There was a ring at the bell, and the apple- 
cheeked maid came through to answer it. Im- 
mediately there appeared in the door of the din- 
ing-room one dishevelled T. Tinkle, his topcoat 
buttoned to hide his dress suit. He had come to 
report that he could not find a trace of Tavy and 
Billy anywhere ! T. Tinkle took one comprehen- 
sive survey of the party at the table, and then that 
whimsical grin spread upon his wide face. 

“ Ham and eggs ! ” he cried, and drew up a 
chair. 


CHAPTER XXX 


CALLERS FOR JOHN DOE 

T REMENDOUS sensation 1 The office of 
William Lane, Engineering Architect, 
sprang flamingly into the public print. 
It had captured the Pittsman prize for the most 
notable structural iron engineering feat of the 
year; and, on a crisp winter morning, large, noble 
portraits of William Lane appeared at every 
breakfast plate ! Alongside was a picture of the 
wonderful dome over the Arts and Sciences build- 
ing! It was a triumph, but the unexpected honor 
brought small joy to Billy Lane. The marvelous 
floating dome was Hal’s creation, and now Har- 
rison Stuart would not take the credit for it. This 
was merely because Hal’s year of probation still 
lacked a month of its completion, and he would 
not announce himself; so Billy was miserable. 
While they were still at this argument and at 
Burke’s curried omelette, the ladies, bubbling with 
joy, called up to congratulate them. This was 
314 


THE ENEMY 


3i5 

Billy’s first chance to vociferously declare himself 
an impostor. 

At the office the controversy broke out afresh. 
The Pittsman jury of awards had mailed the check, 
and the medal, and the engrossed honor parch- 
ment, at the same time it had given out the infor- 
mation to the newspapers; and now here was the 
money, a hundred thousand dollars, endorsed in 
the name of William Lane. William Lane 
promptly endorsed that check to John Doe, and 
carried it in to Hal, and thrust it in his hand. 

“ I’ll keep the honor for a month to accommo- 
date you, but I’ll be jiggered if I’ll keep the 
money! ” he declared. 

u You’ll keep half of it! ” as firmly announced 
Hal. “ Now don’t be foolish, Billy. You had 
some share in that floating dome. As a matter of 
fact it never would have been created but for you.” 

“ Rot! ” scorned Billy. “ I only said it would 
be a gorgeous thing to do, but that it couldn’t be 
done. Then you went to work and did it.” 

“ That looks to me like an equal division of 
labor,” and Hal was tremendously relieved to find 
this solution. “ The only fair thing I see is to 
divide the money.” 

“I won’t accept it!” Billy squared his jaws 
with stubborn determination. 


THE ENEMY 


3 ^ 

“ And I won’t accept it ! ” Hal slammed the 
check on the drawing table between them, and 
there it lay, despised and useless. 

There seemed no way out of that deadlock, 
and the difficulty existed until Tommy Tinkle, who 
dropped in towards noon, decided the matter, in a 
twinkling. 

“ If you don’t want the money, give it away,” 
he advised them, his whimsical grin illuminating 
the office. “ I’d take it, except that I’m selfish 
and don’t want to add to my burdens. But why 
don’t you go to the bank and get one hundred 
one-thousand-dollar bills, put fifty of them in a blue 
box and fifty in a pink one, and present them to the 
ladies? I claim the honor of making the presen- 
tation speech.” 

They nearly shook the arms off Tommy Tinkle 
for that clever disposal of their dilemma; and, 
the next night following, the blue box and the pink 
box being ready, they all three went up to the en- 
chanted apartments, and Tommy Tinkle made a 
presentation speech, full of foolishness and good 
will, and the quintette held a celebration. 

Tommy was with the courting party a great 
deal these days, for he was lonely, and there was a 
somberness on him which needed much gaiety to re- 
lieve it. A change had come over him, and it was 


THE ENEMY 


3i7 


due to Geraldine Benning. Since he had been a 
very small boy, Tommy Tinkle had enshrined Ger- 
aldine in his heart as a goddess without flaw and 
without imperfection. Now that she had, with 
her own hand, shattered that idol into minute frag- 
ments, Tommy found an aching vacancy in his 
heart corresponding exactly to the space the idol 
had occupied. So Tommy, for his gaiety, went, 
quite logically, to the place where there always 
brooded a somber specter which needed to be 
fought off with gaiety. 

By winter, however, the specter had been driven 
well into the background, and only now and then 
its shadow was seen in the patient blue eyes of 
Jean and in the luminous dark gray eyes of Tavy; 
but sometimes, even in the happiest moments, an 
unexpected word or sight would bring back a flash 
of hideous memory; and this is the price of wretch- 
edness, that memory never lets it die ; it only slum- 
bers. 

For the most part, however, there was nothing 
but joy in the enchanted apartments, and the end- 
less current of the river, passing the cozy little 
bay window, seemed to be bearing towards them 
only ecstasy. That had been a glorious summer 
and fall, for never were two belles courted more 
assiduously than Jean and Tavy Stuart. There 


THE ENEMY 


3i8 

were the regulation flowers and candy, and drives 
and picnics, and excursions and parties, with 
Tommy Tinkle frequently, and in great glee, wield- 
ing the baton in this melodious quartette of love. 

These, however, were only the ordinary ac- 
tivities provided by a pair of unusually ardent 
wooers. The great, the marvelous, the over- 
whelming enjoyment was the house of the royal 
princess! It had been bought, at last, and paid 
for out of Harrison Stuart’s own earnings, a beau- 
tiful little cottage, in sight of the river and within 
three quarters of an hour of the city, and with 
ground enough to build another cottage; spacious 
lawns between, shaded by towering old trees. 
And for whom was that new cottage to be built? 
Billy and Tavy, of course ! The plans were being 
finished, and it was to be erected while they were 
away for their six months’ study of the architec- 
tural engineering of Rome, and Egypt, and Paris, 
and almost everywhere. So it was a very busy 
Jean and Tavy and Hal and Billy, and there were 
scarcely enough hours in the day to get through it 
all, what with the furnishing of the house for the 
royal princess and the brain-tearing problem of 
the new honeymoon cottage. For instance, should 
the billiard-room be just off the dining-room, or 
would it be better to have it lead off the library? 


THE ENEMY 


319 


You see how important that could be, don’t you? 
Then the tiny little pink and gold boudoir. Should 
it have latticed French windows, or Colonial? A 
trifling detail? Certainly not; for the solution to 
that tremendously important question would domi- 
nate the artistic treatment of the entire house ! 

Of course, the men had business to look after, 
but the ladies were equally busy at those times, for 
there were trousseaux; two of them. And such 
wonderful hand embroidery was never wrought 
into filmy fabrics as that created by the patient 
fingers of Jean and the loving ones of Tavy; for 
now all the skill which had been lavished on the 
gay little court lady dolls was brought into urgent 
requisition. As Jean worked, her eyes grew con- 
stantly brighter, for they were set constantly 
asparkle by an agreeable gleam from her finger. 
Oh, yes, she wore a new diamond ring; one just 
like Tavy’s. 

There was an added dignity on the night Tommy 
Tinkle presented the blue and pink boxes, for now 
they were ladies of business, with property in their 
own names and money to make them independent. 
Careful and cautious ladies of business they were, 
for the very next day they bought safe and solid 
bonds which would yield them a comfortable in- 
come ; while Hal and Billy, glowing with pride in 


3 2 ° 


THE ENEMY 


this beautiful achievement, plunged furiously into 
work, so that they should not be behindhand when 
the flood of new commissions overtook them. 

There was only one cloud in Billy’s happiness; 
the floating dome itself. The congratulations he 
received among his fellow members of the profes- 
sion “ got on his nerves,” and especially at the 
T-Beam Club, where, at his first appearance, they 
swallowed their jealousy, and surrounded him with 
a solid phalanx of hearty good will. The float- 
ing dome was not a mere personal achievement; 
it was a gift to the profession; and for this, Bravo 
Billy! 

“Nothing like it!” Billy had all he could 
stand of obtaining praise under false pretenses. 
“ I only wish I had devised the floating dome, but 
I can’t take the credit for what doesn’t belong to 
me. The thing was invented by my partner, John 
Doe, and it’s a corker ! ” 

“ Then why isn’t John Doe a member of the 
T-Beam Club?” demanded jovial old Ainsley 
Pulham, the president of the organization. 
“ Bring him around.” 

“ All right,” agreed Billy easily, knowing that 
Hal would not come for another month; but this 
was the easiest way out of it. 

To avoid further importunity, Billy stayed 


THE ENEMY 


321 


away. During the following week, however, the 
name of John Doe grew and grew! The floating 
dome was not a matter to be taken lightly by those 
who so thoroughly understood and appreciated it; 
and, moreover, the firm of William Lane had be- 
come too important for any factor of its tremen- 
dous success to be overlooked! 

So, one bright noon-time, Ainsley Pulham with 
a jolly committee from the T-Beam Club, stormed 
the office of William Lane, and demanded of the 
snub-nosed office boy to see John Doe. They not 
only demanded this, but they followed right into 
the private office of the dignified elderly gentleman 
with the silver Vandyke. 

“ Mr. Doe, this is the handshaking committee 
of the T-Beam Club,” vociferously announced the 
gayly shrivelled president. “ Get acquainted. 
I’m Ainsley Pulham. This is Walter Hess, fat 
but sassy. Henry McCullough, The Beau Brum- 
mel of the club. Dick Morton, our best little 
drinker. T. M. Weatherby, famed as a sweet 
singer. Write us a check for a hundred dollars, 
John Doe, and sign this application blank.” 

“ I’ll send it to you,” diplomatically evaded Mr. 
Doe, pushing back in his mind the painful memory 
of a disgraceful orgy and an expulsion at the T- 
Beam Club. When he again became Harrison 


THE ENEMY 


322 

Stuart, his first act would be to reinstate himself 
there; so he would manage to hold off that ap- 
plication blank for three weeks. However, he 
shook hands pleasantly with Ainsley Pulham. No 
recognition in the keen blue eyes of Pulham. 
Walter Hess, a man new in these fifteen years. 
Henry McCullough. Why, Henry had been a 
dapper boy, the youngest member, in the long past 
time. Dick Morton; rollicking, careless, devil- 
may-care Dick, at whose elbow — 

“ By George, it’s Harrison Stuart ! ” Dick Mor- 
ton’s voice thrilled with joy. The years had 
taken the hair from him, and robbed his cheeks 
of their ruddiness, and put gold in his teeth, and 
rounded him with prosperity; but they had not 
touched the heart nor the spirit of him; and here 
was Dick, shaking both of his old crony’s hands, 
and slapping him on the back, and pushing him 
around to T. M. Weatherby, and Ainsley Pul- 
ham and Henry McCullough, for further hand- 
shaking and back slapping and vociferous welcome. 

Why, it was Harrison Stuart come back! 
Stuart, the daddy of them all, the most glittering 
name in the profession, the authority, even after 
fifteen years, on the fundamentals of construc- 
tional iron work! Harrison Stuart! Why, God 
bless us, old man, there’s only a few of us left, 


THE ENEMY 


323 

but we hold you in our hearts and our memories 
in affection and pride ! 

Yes, they did, in spite of all that he had done, 
they held him in their memories and in their hearts 
with affection and pride; and here they were, 
crowding around him with such a pandemonium of 
welcome that the snub-nosed office boy debated 
seriously the turning in of a riot alarm. No such 
disgraceful proceedings had occurred in that office 
since earnest young William Lane had started to 
pay more rent than he could afford. 

“Now you can’t get out of it! You have to 
come!” Ainsley Pulham, and he was jamming 
Harrison Stuart’s hat on his head, rear side fore- 
most. 

They backed him into his coat, they jostled him 
out of the office by main strength, they thrust him 
into an elevator, and downstairs, all of them laugh- 
ing and howling like schoolboys, Harrison Stuart 
laughing with them, though there were tears in his 
eyes. They crowded into a machine, and whizzed 
away for lunch at the T-Beam Club ! 


CHAPTER XXXI 


HONOR UPON HONOR 

“T | ^HE quivering question which agitates 
me is what will Tavy wear? ” This 
was the greeting of Tommy Tinkle, as 
he entered the enchanted pink and gray apart- 
ments, with a roll of evening papers under his arm. 

“Where?” Tavy stopped embroidering a 
violet on something which looked suspiciously like 
a yachting collar, and Jean Stuart came hurrying in 
from the adjoining room with an embroidery 
frame in one hand and a work basket in the other. 
“ Tommy Tinkle, where! ” 

“To the banquet.” Tommy aggravatingly sat 
in the bay window, with a nonchalant appearance 
of not meaning to give any more information until 
it was dragged out of him. 

“What banquet?” 

“ At the Hotel Nabob. Pleasant weather, isn’t 
it? Looks like snow.” 

Mrs. Stuart laughed and sat down opposite 
Tommy. She came into the parlor every time she 
324 


THE ENEMY 


325 

heard his voice, for fear he might say something 
funny and she not hear it. 

Tavy took a deliberatively painstaking stitch in 
her violet, and affected as great a degree of in- 
difference as Tommy Tinkle. 

“A little warm for snow, don’t you think?” 
she drawled. Another painstaking stitch. “Still, 
it was snowing this time last year. I like the snow, 
don’t you? Tommy Tinkle, if you don’t tell me 
all about this banquet, I’ll scream ! ” 

“ Then I’ll wait until you do,” and the aggravat- 
ing Tommy lit a cigarette. “Oh; I might add 
that the banquet is to be given by the T-Beam 
Club.” He cast a sly glance in the direction of 
Jean Stuart. She had dropped her embroidery 
frame in her lap, and was gazing at Tommy with 
quiet patience. She remembered the T-Beam 
Club ! “ There will be just a few guests in the 

ladies’ gallery after the coffee, and I’m wondering 
if Tavy will wear one of the new trousseau gowns, 
or just a regular frock. Oh ; I might add that the 
banquet is to be in honor of Harrison Stuart.” 

“Tommy!” cried Tavy. “They’ve found 
him out ! ” 

“ Everything. They know that he invented the 
floating dome. They know that he’s Billy’s part- 
ner. The T-Beam fellows came up to the office 


THE ENEMY 


326 

and got him, while Billy was out. They arranged 
for the banquet on the way to the club. It s a 
week from to-morrow night. So the newspapers 
know it; and now, Tavy, you have a regular 
daddy.” 

Mrs. Stuart was half laughing and half crying, 
but Tavy was clapping her hands. 

“ So they’re glad they found Daddy! ” she ex- 
ulted. 

“Glad? They’re crazy.” Tommy handed 
them the roll of afternoon papers which contained 
just the first announcements of the tremendous sen- 
sation. “ Now, ladies,” and Tommy flourished 
his cigarette, “ trust me. I am your friend. 
I hurried up here to beat the reporters. Billy 
is handling them at the office, and Burke at the 
apartments. Harrison Stuart is hidden. I think 
there is a reporter in the hall by this time,” 
and, sure enough, the doorbell rang. “ Dis- 
appear,” he told them. “ The romance is Billy’s. 
It’s as good as the little daughter who was burned 
in the theater fire, but not so horrible.” 

To see Tommy Tinkle handling reporters and 
guarding the ladies in their retreat would have 
been a joy, and it would have been a revelation in 
the art of sympathy to hear him tell how Har- 
rison Stuart lost his memory for fifteen years, 


THE ENEMY 


3 2 7 


through a fall from a roof, and wandered all over 
the world, under the name of John Doe, until he 
was brought back to memory by the sight of his 
old friends in Billy Lane’s office! 

That was a busy week in the enchanted apart- 
ments, a busy and a proud week, for the papers 
were full of nothing but the marvelous romance 
of Harrison Stuart, of his tremendous achieve- 
ments, of his dignified position in the world of 
structural engineering, of his pictures, front view, 
profile, and three quarters, standing, walking, and 
riding in a machine, working, laughing, and smok- 
ing a cigar. There were pretty stories, too, about 
the charming wife and daughter who had waited 
for him all these years, and of the enchanted par- 
lor, and the paper on its walls, and the shape and 
color of the piano, and the pattern of the rug, and 
other important details. Pictures, too, of the 
charming ladies. There was no escaping that, for 
the whole neighborhood was alive with clicking 
cameras; and, if the papers didn’t get good pic- 
tures they would use bad ones, or forge some. 
So Tommy Tinkle, with a proper pride in his 
friends, saw that they got good ones. Some of 
the papers insisted on engaging beautiful Tavy 
to Tommy Tinkle ! They were rather friendly to 
the newspapers, the Stuart ladies, because, while 


THE ENEMY 


328 

the reporters made life a burden to them for three 
days, everything was so superlatively complimen- 
tary; and there was not one hint anywhere of the 
enemy which had really robbed Harrison Stuart 
of his memory, and of everything else worth 
while. 

Honors heaped upon honors ! Behold Jean and 
Tavy Stuart ushered by Tommy Tinkle into the 
ladies’ gallery of the Hotel Nabob, and screened 
behind a Moorish jalousie, upon which, by some 
magic, had grown a purple-blossomed vine without 
roots and without earth and without water. Be- 
low, under the tons of ceilinged gold and stucco, 
and beneath the tons of crystalled chandeliers, and 
attended by so many waiters that the place is black 
with them, sits the T-Beam Club, a sombre look- 
ing collection of black-clad gentlemen, all with 
crinkly or shiny shirtfronts, and all with stiff-look- 
ing white bow ties, and all miserably solemn, as is 
proper at a banquet, for now the coffee has ar- 
rived and the speeches will begin. 

What a disappointment! Of course the ban- 
quet table is shaped like the cross section of a huge 
T-beam, with the toastmaster and the principal 
speakers in the center, and the unimportant new 
members far away at the flanges, but the seating 
is so arranged that a fat man hides the guest of 


THE ENEMY 


329 


honor almost completely from the view of the 
ladies in the gallery; and if they shift, he is more 
completely hidden by one of the two absurd 
Corinthian columns, made of flowers and bearing 
huge lanterns upon which glow the club monogram ; 
so the ladies stay where they are, and get such 
glimpses as they can of the bald spot at the radial 
center of Harrison Stuart’s gray hair. Sometimes 
he moves and then they can see a part of his face. 
Once he leaned far back, and they saw his silver 
Vandyke. It was a thrilling moment ! 
s Now the toastmaster. Ainsley Pulham, of 
course. He raps for order, with a gavel the head 
of which is naturally from the cross section of a 
T-beam; and he drones along for half an hour, 
with many an elaborate joke, and many a senti- 
mental quotation about their beloved and distin- 
guished fellow member, who has come back to 
them, out of the great sea of oblivion, to take his 
rightful place in their hearts. A toast, gentlemen, 
to our beloved and distinguished fellow member, 
Harrison Stuart, the most valuable jewel in the 
glittering diadem of the profession! (Prolonged 
applause.) 

With a will, they drink that toast to Harrison 
Stuart, and he drinks with them in sparkling water, 
untroubled by the glass of yellow champagne 


33 ° 


THE ENEMY 


which hisses at his hand. Far down the table, 
Billy Lane leans forward to catch the eye of Hal. 
Billy drinks the toast in wine. He has no cause 
to be afraid of that, and he turns and lifts his 
glass toward the jalousie lattice, which permits the 
ladies to see and not be seen. This lattice is a 
grievous imposition, for Tavy frantically waves 
her handkerchief at him in answer to that up- 
raised glass; but he cannot see it. Billy is in plain 
view, and that is a comfort, for he is the hand- 
somest and most distinguished looking young man 
there; by all odds ! 

Now the response. The guest of honor is on 
his feet, modest, unassuming, but his heart deeply 
touched by this tribute they have paid him — 
after all that he had done ! A neat little speech, 
but quite short, and in a low voice, and full of 
thanks. 

Ainsley Pulham again. “ The Floating 
Dome,” that new marvel of the structural world, 
and the response will be made by that phenome- 
nally brilliant and successful young engineering ar- 
chitect, William Lane, the partner of the famous 
Harrison Stuart ! 

No low voice here. Billy Lane, in a deep rich, 
baritone, tells them all about the floating dome, its 
inception, its beauty, its value, its development of 


THE ENEMY 


33i 


a new principle of construction which will revolu- 
tionize the science ! Who would ever have 
thought that Billy Lane was such an orator? 
With sure control, and smooth words, and rounded 
sentences, and contagious enthusiasm, he made the 
floating dome as interesting as a page out of the 
Arabian Nights Tales; but, when he came to the 
inventor of that marvel, then indeed he rose to 
heights of eloquence, for here was a topic upon 
which he could say his say with a full heart and 
sturdy belief! His voice pulsed and reverberated 
throughout the length and breadth of the banquet 
hall, vibrated amid the crystal of the chandeliers 
and the stucco and gold of the ceilings, throbbed 
into the ladies’ gallery, penetrated to the inner- 
most recess of Tavy Stuart, so that she fairly 
quivered with the pride and glory of it all ! Were 
there ever two such remarkably clever and brilliant 
and majestic men as Harrison Stuart and Billy 
Lane ? Never ! And in the burst of stupendous 
applause which followed, Jean and Tavy Stuart 
laughed and laughed for joy, and wiped their 
eyes, and held hands. 

More speeches, with Ainsley Pulham in be- 
tween, sometimes getting his jokes mixed, and 
sometimes delivering in advance the meat out of 
the next speaker’s talk, but always fresh and smil- 


THE ENEMY 


332 

ing and tireless, and so abundantly supplied with 
words that it was a wonder there were any left. 

Dick Morton, on “The Good Old Days.” 
Henry McCullough, on “The Wedding of Iron 
and Concrete.” Walter Hess, on “ The Future, 
What of It? ” T. M. Weatherby, on “ Fifteen 
Years of Iron.” 

That was a most interesting speech to Harrison 
Stuart. It told him, in the concise and logical 
phraseology of a man thoroughly versed in the 
technique of his science, the exact progress, step 
by step, of structural iron work from the time Har- 
rison Stuart died until he came back to life. The 
man who had been away during those fifteen years 
listened in abstracted concentration, and, now and 
then, as he gave his rapt attention to the speaker, 
sipped from his glass, not noticing that he was 
drinking the champagne. That habit came back 
to him naturally and without thought, after fifteen 
years of absence from banquets, just as the habit 
of politeness had come back to him. The waiters 
passed quietly down along the table, and set little 
decanters of after-coffee brandy at close intervals. 

There were other speeches, some droning and 
dry, some frivolous and enlivening, some tensely 
interesting from a technical standpoint; but late, 
towards the close of the evening, when the ladies 


THE ENEMY 


333 


in the gallery were painfully fighting off drowsi- 
ness, and Tommy Tinkle was doing everything he 
could to keep Tavy and Mrs. Stuart awake, there 
suddenly burst a new voice on the assemblage. 

“ Whisky! ” The tones were startling in their 
coarse raucousness. “ It’s the curse of the 
world ! ” The voice rose to a senile shriek. 
“ There is no hell but whisky! Drink! It’s the 
enemy of man and God! It burns the body and 
it sears the brain! Whisky! ” 

There was a shriek from the ladies’ gallery. It 
was not Harrison Stuart who swayed there, his 
face flushed and puffed, his bleared eyes half 
closed, and his lips formless; but a beast, an ani- 
mal, a Thing from another world. It was Bow- 
Wow! 


CHAPTER XXXII 


IN THE SILENCE OF BLACK NIGHT 
HEY wanted to wait for him, those two 



stricken women in the gallery, to take him 


home with them, for in their hearts was 


no resentment, only pity. But Tommy Tinkle 
would not let them. He sent word to Billy that 
he had them in charge, and took them home, and 
said what consoling things he could. It was not 
much of a lapse, it was more excitement than any- 
thing else, Billy would have him all right in the 
morning, such things were to be expected, and 
wasn’t it a stunning speech that Billy made ! 

Yes, such things were to be expected, and that 
was the awful tragedy of it. Again the spectral 
shadow claimed its firm seat in the blue eyes and 
the dark gray, and the Stuart women took up the 
allotment nature had made for them. 

Billy telephoned them shortly after they reached 
home. Hal was resting quite comfortably now. 
He had not drunk very much. He had sipped 
at his champagne without knowing it, and then he 


334 


THE ENEMY 


335 


had taken some of the brandy, and of course, with 
the taste of that on his tongue, he did not quite 
realize what he was doing. He’d be fine in the 
morning, and, after all, it was more the excitement 
than anything else. 

But Billy knew better. Hal’s first act, when 
they had left him alone for a moment to prepare 
his bed and his medicine, had been to rouse from 
a seeming lethargy and snatch the decanter ! 
Burke came back in time to seize it from him ; but 
already he had swallowed the equal of a tumbler- 
ful, and, laughing with a gurgle in his throat, he 
let them put him to bed. Almost as soon as he 
laid his head on the pillow, he dropped into a pro- 
found stupor. 

“ It’s a damn shame — beg your pardon, sir — 
after the fight he’s made.” This was Burke, and 
he helped Billy off with his coat and vest. “ I 
think I’ll sit up and watch him.” 

“ I expect you’d better,” decided Billy, and he 
put Hal’s hands under the covers. The window 
had been opened, and it was rather cold in the blue 
room. “ Call me if he’s any trouble.” 

So Billy, heavy-hearted^ went to bed, and Burke 
made himself comfortable in robe and slippers, 
and put another log on the fire in the big lounging- 
room, and sat with pipe and paper. Mr. Stuart 


THE ENEMY 


336 

slept very well, indeed. Burke went in to look at 
him about twice an hour, and once, by accident, he 
dropped a metal tray with a terrific clang; but there 
was no waking the man. Burke went back and 
sat on the big leather couch, and looked into the 
fire, and thought on the Widow Maloney with par- 
ticular satisfaction; for he had carefully concealed 
from her that in two more weeks he would be 
sailing over the seas and far away, with Mr. Billy 
and his pretty bride. Otherwise the determined 
Nora might marry him. Two more weeks! 
Pretty little Miss Tavy, God bless her, would 
make a beautiful bride; two more weeks and the 
royal princess, she was a sweet-minded lady, God 
bless her, would move into the new house, and 
Harrison Stuart would come into his own again; 
and might he always be happy, and prosperous — 
and safe ! So, pleasantly musing, Burke nodded 
his head lower and lower, and fell into the dead 
sleep of them who sit up late o’ nights. 

That numb carcass which was Bow-Wow stirred 
uneasily. Something was wrong. There is no 
resisting the ultimate command of the body. 
When it is born, a mind and a soul spring into 
existence. When it has reached its time to die, 
the mind and the soul have no say in the matter; 
so, in this life, the body is always supreme. It de- 


THE ENEMY 


337 


mands to be fed, to have its thirst quenched, to 
lie in slothful slumber; and if it be refused these 
things, it ousts mind and soul. 

The body of Bow-Wow commanded his mind 
to awaken; and it did; awakened to its full 
strength, to its full intellectual capacity, to the 
full measure of its understanding; and all those 
mental powers were comprised in one muttered 
word, which broke huskily upon the silence of black 
night: 

“ Whisky! ” 

Bow-Wow opened his eyes. Darkness, shot 
with glimmering light. He reached out his arms. 
Space ! Groaning, he sat up, painfully, and en- 
deavored to locate himself. Through the win- 
dows there came the faint illumination of the 
street, and the moist, cold air of the snow. A 
door stood ajar, letting in a slit of dim radiance 
from the room beyond. Bow-Wow shivered. 
He was thinly clad. He was trembling, too, from 
head to foot, with a strange nausea. 

What was this thing which had happened to 
him? He was in a luxuriously furnished blue 
room, and on a bed of easy mattresses and clean 
white linen. He had no more memory of this 
room than if he had never seen it before. He 
had come into this house in a drunken stupor, he 


THE ENEMY 


338 

had lived a year of clean life, and now he was in a 
drunken stupor again, a torpor which joined and 
linked itself almost without joint to that other tor- 
por, blotting out the intervening year as if it had 
never been. How had he come here? In all 
his fuddled consciousness he could find no trace 
of an answer to that mystery; and the effort at any 
thought, further than his physical self, wearied 
and weakened and sickened him. He gave up, 
the vague and feeble attempt at reasoning, and re- 
turned to the one idea which he could comprehend ; 
whisky ! 

He rose and tottered out of the room. He 
found himself in a softly carpeted hall. There 
was a light at the end, a flickering, wavering red 
glow. With many a stop for breath, and 
strength, and steadying of nerves, he edged along 
the wall until he reached a large lounging-room, 
comfortable with leather chairs and couches, where 
a half spent log in the fireplace cast the ruddy 
reflection of its dying flames upon well chosen 
pictures and queer objects of art from every quar- 
ter of the world. Dazed, bewildered, he stood, 
swaying, and blinking stupidly at the fire. There 
was a redheaded man in a lounging robe asleep on 
the couch. Bow-Wow did not know him. 

Whisky! He looked all about, and now oc- 


THE ENEMY 


339 


curred a strange phenomenon. In Bow-Wow’s 
mind there was no memory of this room; but his 
body remembered ! It led him automatically to 
the lounging-room table, the library table, the 
buffet, the pantry. No whisky! He must have 
it! There was a burning in him. There was 
fever in his veins, and yet he shivered with the 
cold. 

“Whisky! Whisky!” His quivering voice 
started in a whine and ended in a wail. Auto- 
matically he wandered back to his bedroom, and 
then again that queer memory of the body directed 
his sodden mind. He knew a barrel-house which 
kept open all night. Mechanically he opened the 
cupboard and drew down the first clothes he found, 
a plain brown business suit, and dressed himself 
with quick, nervous little jerks. As unconsciously 
he took money from the drawer in his dresser and 
stuffed it in his pocket. These things were done 
as independently of his mind as if he had been 
a clock-work figure. Whatever grain of actuat- 
ing intelligence he had was centered on the one 
thing; whisky! The taste was on his tongue! 

He passed out through the lounging-room, and, 
as his eyes fell on the red-headed man asleep on 
the couch, he moved stealthily. Instinct pointed 
out the red-headed man as a foe, as a detaining 


340 


THE ENEMY 


force; and, aside from his need for a drink, the 
inherent prompting for freedom had come upon 
him. He was cramped here. He began to be 
aware of coercion, and there is no human soul so 
debased, so feeble, that in its depth it does not 
resent coercion. 

From Billy’s room there came the sound of 
deep and regular breathing. It meant nothing 
to Bow-Wow, no more than all this unfamiliar 
furniture. In that chair he had sat night after 
night, as Harrison Stuart, and had dreamed his 
dreams and planned his plans. It meant nothing. 
In that seat by the window he had conceived the 
daring solution to the problem of the floating 
dome, and on the wall above it, illuminated by 
the ruddy glow of the fire, was a beautiful water 
color sketch of the floating dome in completion. 
Nothing. Near the door was the telephone. 
How many nights and mornings, in the past 
months, had Harrison Stuart stood and talked to 
Jean and Tavy. 

Stop, you Bow-Wow, who hold, confined within 
you and cramped into some hidden recess, the soul 
of Harrison Stuart! Here, at last, is something 
which will rouse that numbed mind — two ex- 
quisite portraits just opposite the blazing fire; 
Jean and Tavy, pictured with the skilful brush of 


THE ENEMY 


34i 


Tommy Tinkle, so that there seems almost con- 
sciousness in the loving eyes, words upon the ten- 
der, curving lips! These at least should arrest 
him. His bleared gaze passes over them stupidly. 
He turns the latch, he walks into the hall, he closes 
the door softly behind him, he descends the stairs, 
he walks out into the street. 

The dawn is streaking the sky, just such a dawn 
as that which broke upon him the morning he 
found Jean; but it carries with it no association, 
as he lurches down the street. Something at the 
curb catches his eye! It is the blackened and 
dampened butt of a cigar. He stoops and picks 
it up. Righthand pocket. 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


HARRISON STUART CONQUERS HIS ENEMY 

E ARLY morning in the Sink. Damp and 
cold outside, damp and cold inside; but 
a fire in the big cannon ball stove was do- 
ing its best to dispel the eternal gloom and the 
eternal chill which hung in this section of the In- 
ferno. The morning bartender was on duty, a 
pin-eyed man, with broad cheek-bones, and a low 
forehead, and a thin-lipped wide mouth set so low 
down that it seemed to cut off his chin when he 
spoke. A shivering and quaking figure came 
through the door; Red Whitey, out from what- 
ever warren he infested. They are early risers, 
these whisky drinkers. A beer drinker sleeps 
later. 

There was no conversation between the barten- 
der and the customer; for Red Whitey was not yet 
alive. With infinite fumbling, he fished a nickel 
from his pocket and dropped it on the bar, and the 
worn looking bottle came out, together with a 
small glass. Red Whitey put his hand around 
342 


THE ENEMY 


343 


the top of the glass so that it would hold more, 
and poured it full to the top of his finger, and 
lifted it to his mouth with three separate jerks, 
the pin-eyed bartender looking dully on. This 
style of drink was allowed to regular customers, 
for the first morning’s morning. After the drink, 
Red Whitey, with a shudder and wry face, shiv- 
ered over to the bench near the stove and sat 
down, and waited for the drink to take effect. 
It would warm him awake in a minute or two. 

Pittsburg Joe. He slouched in, shivering and 
rubbing his hands. His shirt was open at the 
neck, and his thin coat hung on him like a wilted 
rag, covered with stains of so many sorts and ages 
that it looked like a record of crime. 

“ Some cold, Bo.” His voice was so hoarse 
that it might have been a late fall bull-frog’s. 
He reached up under his arm-pit, and, from some 
mysterious recess in the coat lining, he produced a 
much folded and soiled dollar bill. “ Ladle out 
a schooner.” 

The glass of beer forthcoming, he emptied in 
it some crystal-like powder from a red pill box, 
stirred it with a bar spoon, and drank the mix- 
ture slowly but steadily, without seeming to swal- 
low, much as if he were pouring it into a funnel. 
The effect was almost instantaneous. He shook 


344 


THE ENEMY 


his shoulders and his eyes brightened. He began 
to talk volubly, with a curious break from his 
hoarseness to a metallic shrillness. He told 
where he had been the past month, and all that he 
had done, with a dozen contradictions in his 
wasted lies; and when the bartender had enough, 
and walked away, Pittsburg Joe sat by Red 
Whitey and told him the rest of it. 

Tank Tonkey came presently, as big of girth 
as ever and as pendulous of chin; then two more 
of the old winter guard; then Piggy Marshall; 
and the day’s business at the Sink was fairly be- 
gun. It consisted of sitting and warming, and 
waiting for some one to buy a drink; and it was 
largely a silent business, requiring much quiet con- 
centration. Only the voice of Pittsburg Joe kept 
shrilling on and on. 

The pin-eyed bartender looked up in astonish- 
ment as a quite unusual customer came through 
the door. He was an old man in a neatly pressed 
suit, but without shirt or collar or tie, his breast 
being covered by a silk pajama jacket. His face 
was waxen-white, his eyes were bleared, and there 
were huge puffs under them, his lips were form- 
less, and even his silver Vandyke seemed to be 
scraggly and distended from the loose puffiness 
of his skin. Every muscle of his face was laxed, 


THE ENEMY 


345 

so that his countenance was filled with putty-like 
lines. 

“ A little whisky,” he asked, and threw some 
money on the counter; a bill; five dollars. 

The pin-eyed bartender hesitated a moment, 
then he reached under the bar and produced a 
bottle of labeled whisky. From the same hiding 
place he produced a gentleman’s glass. 

The new customer, with a formless smile at the 
size of the glass, stretched his hand around its 
brim, and poured until it was full to the top of 
his finger, and lifted it jerkily to his mouth, and 
drank; while the bartender rang up a double drink, 
and threw out change for a four-dollar bill. He 
laid the other dollar beneath the bar, for slipping 
in his pocket, later. 

“ Kind o’ cold,” he observed, by way of friendly 
encouragement. 

Red Whitey was all aquiver! He edged over 
close to Piggy Marshall and whispered in his ear: 

“ John Doe ! ” 

“ Bow-Wow! ” Piggy spoke quite confidently, 
but he sat still, and studied the new customer with 
perplexed professional interest. 

Red Whitey motioned Tank Tonkey to come 
closer. 

“ You don’t suppose it’s Bow-Wow! ” 


THE ENEMY 


346 

Tank Tonkey shook his head. 

“ I dassent make a guess,” he husked. 

Red Whitey, trembling with the eagerness of a 
rat terrier, turned to Pittsburg Joe. 

“ Say; is that Bow-Wow? ” 

“ Naw! ” The contempt of Joe for the asker 
of that question was profound. 

“ Well, go lamp him, that’s all I say,” advised 
Red, his curiosity at the shaking point. “ Go 
lamp him ! ” 

“ Sure.” Pittsburg Joe was ready for any- 
thing. He had that in him which gave him ex- 
treme confidence in himself. He could jump over 
the Brooklyn Bridge if he tried. He looked back 
and winked three times, as he crossed to the bar 
and lounged near the stranger. He made a thor- 
ough inspection, and still was doubtful, but he 
winked prodigiously. “ Hello, sport,” he ven- 
tured. 

The new customer, clumsily picking up his 
change, turned slowly and gazed at the intruder 
with heavy lidded eyes, swaying and nodding, then 
a formless smile came upon his lips. 

“ Hello, Joe. Have a little drink.” 

Bow-Wow ! They were over at the bar as one 
man, and he knew them all; he called them by 
name ! They clustered round him like flies ! 


THE ENEMY 


347 


The pin-eyed bartender wiped his hands briskly 
on his apron and got ready for business. Bow- 
Wow had put his change back on the bar in front 
of him, and drew it in a heap. 

“ Have a little drink.” 

Would they have a little drink! They would, 
as many as Bow-Wow would buy! The barten- 
der reached for the labeled bottle, but Red 
Whitey stopped that economic waste. 

“ Regular stuff for him, Phil. You don’t know 
this guy. He’s one of our old buddies. Name’s 
Bow-Wow.” 

“ Hello, Red.” A husky, guttural voice, each 
sentence interrupted with labored breathing. 
“ Have a little drink.” 

Others arrived, for the rulers of the kingdom 
of rest were at their city home now. The season 
of their reign was past. They came in apathet- 
ically, one by one, but as they saw the throng at the 
bar, each quickened his pace to eager briskness, 
for the day’s business promised to be good 

Bow-Wow had more money, plenty of it, and 
he did not notice that, in paying for the constant 
succession of drinks, he broke bills with astonish- 
ing rapidity. He did not notice that the pin-eyed 
bartender kept out an average of twenty percent 
for himself. He did not notice that coins slipped 


THE ENEMY 


348 

away on all sides, from his heap, and that even 
bills disappeared, as his change was dumped in 
front of him. Except to see that the little glass 
was set before him frequently, he did not notice 
anything; that his hands were white when they 
should be gnarled and black, and that his nails 
were polished and well-trimmed, when they 
should be stained and ragged and black-rimmed; 
that these were malodorous creatures who hung 
upon his shoulders and slapped him on the back, 
and called him Pal, and Bo, and Buddy — and 
Bow-Wow; that the floor was a filthy mire, that 
the atmosphere was fetid and foul; that gradually 
what little there was left in him of the semblance 
of God’s own image was dropping away and leav- 
ing him to be submerged in his loathsome swine- 
hood ! And the swine in him was happy. It was 
being drenched with whisky. 

Jerry-the-Limp. He came in more briskly 
than the others, but when he saw the throng at 
the bar, his leg shortened, and his mouth took 
on a piteous droop, and he came forward limping. 

“ Get in, Jerry! ” sang Red Whitey, bold as a 
lion now. It was he who hung the most on the 
provider of the feast. “ It’s Bow-Wow! ” 

The change in Jerry-the-Limp was instanta- 
neous. His leg came down, the droop went out 


THE ENEMY 


349 


of his mouth, his beady eyes glittered, and he be- 
gan to snarl, even as he pushed his way through 
the industrious men of business. 

“So it’s Bow-Wow!” he shrilled. “So 
you’ve come back, you white-whiskered stiff! So 
you got drunk, eh, and they gave you the toss ! ” 
Bow-Wow looked around at him slowly, with a 
nodding head and dull comprehension. His 
heavy-lidded eyes focused as best they could. 

“ Hello, Jerry. Have a little drink.” That, 
and “ A little whisky ” were the only words his 
thick tongue had formed since he came into the 
Sink. 

“Don’t ask me to have a drink!” Jerry’s 
hand, quite by accident of course, pushed a bill 
from the edge of the bar. The bill fell to the 
floor, and he put his foot on it. “ Do you know 
what you done to me? ” 

“Aw, cut it, Jerry; Bow-Wow’s all right! 
He’s a good buddy! ” Red Whitey made that 
intercession. He was desperately afraid that the 
happy program might be interrupted. 

“ Shut your yawp ! ” Jerry-the-Limp had re- 
gained his ascendency. It was the triumph of 
mind over matter. “ We came up for a friendly 
little call, and you handed us the toss, didn’t you, 
you white-whiskered stiff ! ” He shook his fist 


350 


THE ENEMY 


in Bow-Wow’s face. His little eyes were glaring 
vindictively and his snarl displayed all his red 
gums. “ You turned us up to Mike Dowd, didn’t 
you!” His claw-like hand grabbed Bow-Wow 
at the shoulder and shook him, for better atten- 
tion. “ You got me in a scrap with my pals, and 
I got four months on the rock pile! I cracked 
rocks for four months, I did; four months, in 
fine weather, and me with my poor crippled leg! 
I’ll show you! ” and he turned Bow-Wow roughly 
around to face him. 

At last the sodden Bow-Wow, intent only on 
supplying his one great need, knew that he was an- 
noyed. 

“Whisky!” he suddenly husked. “It’s the 
curse of the world ! ” His voice rose shrilly. 
“There is no hell but whisky! Drink! It’s the 
enemy of man and God ! ” The creature’s fists 
were clenched and his eyes were glistening, as his 
voice rose to greater vehemence. “ Whisky! It 
burns the body and it sears the brain ! ” 

It was Piggy Marshall, who, with one of his 
rare flashes of memory, suddenly recalled the 
great joke. He knew now why he always chuckled 
at the mention of Bow-Wow’s name. It was the 
regular climax to this set speech. He suddenly 
reached over Jerry-the-Limp’s shoulder and gave 


THE ENEMY 


35i 

Bow-Wow’s whiskers a violent yank. That was 
the great joke! 

Here again came that strange memory of the 
body. The Bow-Wow of old had sunk so low in 
his torpidity that he had lost all power of resent- 
ment. The Harrison Stuart of the past year had 
brought his body up to manliness; and it was his 
body which now struck impotently out at Piggy 
Marshall, but landed its fist on the snarling mouth 
of Jerry-the-Limp ! 

With a scream of rage, Jerry plunged for him. 
Bow-Wow backed to avoid the blow. Tank Ton- 
key, just behind him, stepped aside, and Bow- 
Wow fell to the floor, hitting his head on the iron 
foot rail. He lay stunned, for a moment, and 
Jerry-the-Limp made ready to kick him and stamp 
him, until the long pent-up glut of vindictive rage 
should be appeased; and the others would have 
allowed him to do it, for that was the rule of the 
game in the Bowery. 

Jerry-the-Limp was just drawing his heavily 
shod foot for the first kick at Bow-Wow’s face, 
when there landed on his shoulder a hand so 
weighty and a grip so sharp that it nearly extracted 
the shoulder bone! The hand was like a great 
slab of pickled meat with fingers hewed roughly in 
the end, and it belonged to Mike Dowd! 


352 


THE ENEMY 


“ Here you ! ” bellowed Mike, and he shook 
Jerry-the-Limp until his teeth chattered. “You 
duck before I smash you! You’re barred from 
this joint, you shrimp ! ” and he flung Jerry back- 
wards, without looking where he landed, so vio- 
lently that he crashed against the door with a 
grunt. Finding himself so handy to egress, Jerry- 
the-Limp, who was a quick thinker, promptly 
jumped outside and hurried up the Bowery, with 
a total disregard for his poor crippled leg. 

In the meantime, Mike Dowd leaned down to 
pick up the fallen combatant, and, as he did so, he 
stopped, with a catch of his breath. 

“ St. Patrick, it’s — ” He paused at the name. 

“It’s Bow-Wow!” A hoarse and husky 
chorus apprised him of that fact. 

“Get back, you!” roared Mike. “Set 
down! ” and they sat. 

He had picked up the fallen man, whose eyes 
were staring wildly about him, and now led him 
behind the bar, where there was a chair at the 
forward end. It was comparatively clean, here. 
It was Mike’s drawing-room. 

“ I am sorry to see you this way, friend.” He 
was careful about names, even though he was lean- 
ing over and speaking in a low voice. “ I knew 
there’d be a come-back some time, though, and I 


THE ENEMY 


353 

knew you’d break here. I guess it’s lucky you 
did. Need a little drink of something? ” 

Harrison Stuart shook his head. 

“ Thank you,” he tremulously returned. “ I’ll 
be all right.” The fall, the slight contusion of 
his scalp, the slight flow of blood, had shocked 
him out of his stupor. 

“ Now you just set still and rest, and I’ll call 
up Billy. He’ll fix you,” and Mike went to the 
telephone at the other end of the bar, while the 
pin-eyed servitor plodded back to the dusty and 
blackened barrels at the rear of the room, to fill 
the bottles for the day. Mike asked for his num- 
ber, but there was a long wait; a busy wire. At 
that moment Jean Stuart was trying to call Billy, 
to ask how Hal was, and Tavy, hollow-eyed, was 
standing at her side. They had no answer, for 
Billy and Burke were still sound asleep. They 
did not know yet that Harrison Stuart was gone ! 

So he had failed, failed within two weeks of 
grasping the crown of his long waiting! Even 
through the fumes which bewildered his brain, he 
realized it all. He had been drunk! He was 
here in this foul hole, not as a curious spectator, 
but as one of its brutalized habitues. He could 
never trust himself again! He could never sum- 
mon sufficient confidence, nor yet sufficient strength, 


354 


THE ENEMY 


to fight through that battle for another whole 
year, much less for the balance of his life! Jean! 
Tavy! He had come into their lives only to dis- 
grace them again ! And how often would he do it 
in the time to come? With a moan of anguish, 
he rose from his chair and walked down to the 
center of the bar, to look at himself in the mirror, 
conscious, while he did it, that, to add to his hu- 
miliation, all those decrepit wrecks of humanity 
over against the wall were watching his every 
movement and leering at him. He turned to the 
narrow mirror just above the open cash drawer, 
and what he saw, in the bleared and distorted face, 
chilled the blood in his veins. He almost stopped 
his breathing, and looked and looked, and read 
the full depth of his degradation ! 

At last Mike Dowd had his call. By some 
trick of the switchboard, he had the wire before 
Jean Stuart. 

“ Billy Lane’s? ” 

“ Yes.” The sleepy voice of Burke. 

“ Billy up?” 

“No, sir — yes; he says he’s awake.” 

“ Well, tell Billy this is Mike Dowd. There’s 
a certain party down here, he’ll know who ” 

There was a deafening explosion, a concussion 
as if all the air in the room had been compressed 


THE ENEMY 


355 


and then suddenly released, a jingling of glasses, 
and then a heavy fall. Mike Dowd dropped the 
receiver and ran to the huddled figure. Harrison 
Stuart was crumpled on the floor in a shapeless 
heap, at his hand the revolver snatched from the 
cash drawer. Harrison Stuart had fought his 
last battle with drink, and had conquered. He 
had found the way to keep from ever falling a 
victim to whisky again. He was dead I 


CHAPTER XXXIV 


THE ROYAL PRINCESS COMES HOME 

I T was in solid black that the royal princess 
came home to the beautiful cottage. In the 
heart of the royal princess there was a sor- 
row which would never quit it; but Harrison 
Stuart, when he passed out under the shadow of 
tall elms, on his way to rest, took with him the 
specter of fear, which, for so many years, had 
shadowed the patient eyes of Jean. And he had 
given her a parting gift; peace! 

After they had come back from that solemn 
journey to the city of the dead, Billy drew Tavy 
aside into the little room which was to have been 
her father’s sanctuary. There was suffering in 
his face as well as in hers, but in him, too, there 
was some strange new thing which had come to 
him because Harrison Stuart had died. 

“ I am going away,” he told her, holding both 
her dear hands in his, and gazing down into her 
dark eyes as if he must look, and look, to fix them 
within his vision for all time to come. 

356 


THE ENEMY 


357 


She drew closer to him. 

“ It is because I am not yet free,” he went on. 
“ There may be men who can drink in safety; but 
I am one of those who can not. The death of 
Hal proved to me that even the most rigid ab- 
stinence is not sufficient. It will not do to say that 
I will never have the taste of whisky on my tongue. 
I must be able to endure that taste, and conquer 
the desire it arouses in me. The taste on the 
tongue! Tavy, I am not yet secure against it; 
and there is a reason greater than you or me why 
I have no right, with this curse upon me, to make 
you my wife ; that reason considers those who can- 
not agree that they are willing to bear the wretch- 
edness I might bring upon them — the unborn.” 

She drew still closer, nestled against him, and 
he folded her in his arms, though he stood stiff 
and straight. If he dared bend to her he might 
weaken his resolution, and to hold to it was, even 
now, costing him his heart’s blood. 

“ So, Tavy dear, I am going to spend my life, 
if need be, in the conquering of this enemy, and I 
have no right to hold you bound. There must be 
no pledge between us.” 

Mutely she stripped the ring from her finger 
and laid it in his palm, and looked up at him. 
There flowed between them that pure love which 


THE ENEMY 


358 

is infinitely greater than the giving of self to self ! 
He stooped, and kissed her upturned lips; and 
then he walked out under the shadow of the tall 
elms. That day the firm of William Lane ceased 
to exist, and William Lane dropped out of the ken 
of men as completely as Harrison Stuart had done. 
And the snows of winter fell on the beautiful cot- 
tage of the royal princess, and the birds of 
summer sang in the tall elms outside Tavy’s 
windows. 


Spring. Bright color everywhere. Flowers 
peep up in the woods, flaunt themselves at the 
roadside, and cluster with particularly loving fond- 
ness around the beautiful cottage of the royal prin- 
cess. Bright color everywhere in the beautiful 
cottage, for there is scarcely a room which has not 
its vase of gay flowers. Even on the big mahog- 
any desk there is a huge bowl of apple blossoms, 
which Tavy places there every season. Her 
father had been very fond of them, and Billy had 
been fond of them. 

Billy is much in her mind to-day. Perhaps it is 
because the air has in it that same quality of balmi- 
ness which it had on that day, so long ago, when 


THE ENEMY 


359 


she and Billy had walked around and around Van- 
heuster Square, listening to the triumphant song 
of the lone robin. Five years of cheerful purpose 
had brought to Tavy a new beauty. The black 
hair is just as curly, the deep gray eyes just as lumi- 
nous, the oval cheeks are just as delicately tinted, 
but about the red lips and about the deep eyes 
there has grown that sweetness which comes only 
to those who have learned to suffer without bit- 
terness. 

Five years had added to the whiteness of Jean 
Stuart’s hair, but they have added nothing more 
to her, except the reward of her peace. As she 
comes into the room now, where Tavy is arrang- 
ing the apple blossoms in the bowl, there is a 
great similarity between mother and daughter, 
though they look nothing alike, and one has youth 
and the other age. The similarity is in the ex- 
pression about the eyes and lips, that expression 
of the sweetness which repays those who will suf- 
fer without bitterness. 

“ There’s a caller for you, Tavy.” 

“ Tommy Tinkle?” 

“ No.” A peculiar smile on Jean Stuart’s lips, 
and — why are her eyes suddenly so bright, and 
moist, too, as she slips her arm around Tavy’s 


THE ENEMY 


360 

waist? Why is it that, though she smiles stead- 
fastly, there is a twitching in the corner of her lips 
and a trembling in them. 

“ Who then?” 

“ A gentleman; an old friend.” The arm 
around Tavy’s waist holds her closer, but the 
smile is steadfast, though the moisture in the eyes 
increases. Why, there are tears glistening on her 
lashes! “ In the parlor, Tavy.” 

There is a sudden catch in Tavy’s breath, a 
sudden pallor in her face, and then she steadies 
herself. When one learns to suffer without bit- 
terness, one has learned to have only very quiet 
emotions. 

“ Were you glad to see him, mother? ” 

Now the two tears which trembled on the lashes 
roll down the faded cheeks, but the smile, though 
it quivers still, is steadfast. 

“ Very, Tavy dear, very glad, and very happy, 
and very proud! ” 

She withdraws her arm from about her daugh- 
ter, and takes her by the shoulders and looks deep 
into her eyes, and kisses her. Then Tavy walks 
into the hall and up toward the parlor. Outside 
the door she leans her hand against the wall, for 
her knees have a sudden curious notion to bend, 
and her breath has come short, and she feels that 


THE ENEMY 


361 

she has no color in her face; so she waits a mo- 
ment. Then she draws aside the portieres, and 
stops on the threshold. 

There he stands near the window, big and 
strong and handsome, and there is no need to ask 
him any questions, as she looks into his clear eyes, 
which somehow, like her own, have grown the 
better for the cultivation of suffering without bit- 
terness. 

For a long, long space they stand motionless, 
as if their hungry eyes must first be satisfied, then 
she is in his arms, and he is kissing her over and 
over and over, and telling her again and again and 
again that he loves her ! And they are never to be 
parted any more, and she holds out her finger 
for her ring, and there is no trace in her eyes of 
the specter of fear! 

There is a brisk footstep on the porch, in the 
hall, in the room. Tommy Tinkle, good old 
Tommy, with the whimsical grin upon his wide 
face, and just behind him comes Mummy Stuart, 
hurrying lest he might say something funny and 
she not hear it. 

“ Well, Tavy, I suppose Billy’s told you that 
he’s been all over the world, and owns a diamond 
mine, and had a beard when he came home, and 
Burke shaved it off an hour ago so you’d be sure 


362 


THE ENEMY 


to know him, and — he hasn’t? 
lieve he’s told you anything! 
what do we have for lunch? ” 


THE END 


Why, I don’t be- 
Mummy Stuart, 


VAIL- BALLOU CO., BINGHAMTON AND NEW YORK 






















































































































































































































































































































































































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